So Changed
by NarnianMelody
Summary: The Pevensie siblings face the dangers of real life after their father is killed in the war... and they find that real life can come in horrid packages. Post PC, rated for mature themes and mild language. COMPLETE!
1. Prologue: No Letter

If the Pevensie's father had died in the war, what kind of life will Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy face once their main income had stopped? Post-PC, rated for mature themes, language in later chapters, no incest.

**Ages: Peter: 16 Susan: 15 Edmund: 13 Lucy: 11**

**I wanted Su to be around my age (lol) so I made this story a little after Prince Caspian, because during that book they were 14, 13, 11, and 9 (according to my Beyond the Wardrobe book by E. J. Kirk). Susan hasn't tried to forget about Narnia yet, in this fan fic. Oh, and the mother's name is Helen because that's what she was called in the movie (random, I know).**

**Enjoy!**

Prologue 

The mail carriage was taking slower then usual to get to the Pevensie household. The tired horses hooked up to the cart were plodding like turtles down the dusty road as the post man got out from his seat, sorted through several telegrams and letters, and handed the post to various people waiting anxiously outside their fences. By the time Susan was able to run out her door and rush to the man delivering—for some—their fates, the cart had been on their street for a good ten minutes.

"Pevensie…Pevensie…Pevensie…" the man muttered as the horses halted outside the house, before Susan could speak. "No letters today. Sorry."

"Oh," Susan said quietly. Nothing yet again. "Thank you, sir."

The horses started on again and Susan leaned on the fence gate and watched them go. Well. At least it hadn't been a telegram.

"Su?"

Susan turned around and saw Edmund walking toward her. She was able to put a small, sad smile on her face as he approached. "Nothing?" her younger brother asked.

She shook her head. He shrugged and rubbed the side of his head with his palm, a tired look in his eyes.

"It could have been worse," Susan offered, hating to see her brother so disappointed. It could not have been helped, however. They all had been disappointed every day for the last three months. "We could have gotten a wire."

Edmund winced. Just two weeks ago their neighbor three doors down had received the fatal telegram, in doing so letting out a mournful, heart-breaking shriek that caused Mrs. Pevensie and several others on the block to throw their windows up in alarm and watch the elder woman sink to the ground, sobbing hysterically. Several people of their block had run over as fast as their legs could carry them, women to wrap soothing arms around their now-widowed neighbor, men to gather and shake their heads. Susan had watched on in dismay. The war had taken one more man….

It was this image of the woman that stayed in Susan's head as the carriage rolled away onto the next street. It was an image that she did not want to see ever again.

She and Edmund walked back into the house. Lucy and Peter were at the kitchen table, working on an English essay (at least Lucy was, Peter was helping her). Their mother was downtown, making buttonholes on shirts and hemming dresses to feed the five of them, having flat-out refused Peter's offer of going to work himself.

"We're not poor and you're only sixteen; focus on your schoolwork instead," she had suggested after Peter finally gave in. "When school starts you should be ready. Plus your father sends home his earnings every now and then."

Now as Susan and Edmund came into the kitchen Peter was working on not only _his_ schoolwork but also seemed to be writing Lucy's summer essay without touching a pen.

"Use the word 'devastating' instead of 'sad'," he was suggesting as they walked through the doorway. "It's better vocabulary."

"How do you spell that?" Lucy asked, hand scribbling across the paper.

"D-e-v-a…" Edmund started, looking over her shoulder as Susan sat down across from them. Peter looked up at her.

"No letter?" he asked softly so Lucy wouldn't hear.

Susan shook her head again. Peter gave her the small smile she had just given Edmund.

"One will come," he said. "You'll see."

"I know," Susan sighed, brushing her hair out of her face. "But it's been so long."

"It'll turn out okay, things always do," her elder brother said soothingly. "Besides, we didn't get a wire."

Susan thought of their neighbor and felt a chill gather at the base of her spine. "That's true," she said, trying to smile.

"We didn't get any post today?" Lucy asked, having looked between Peter and Susan and pieced things together.

"No," Susan said. "But Dad's busy right now. He'll write us as soon as he gets another chance." Lucy looked slightly deflated and Susan added, "You'll see. A letter always comes."

"Yeah, a letter always comes," Edmund repeated, more to fill the silence rather then to have his words signify any meaning.

It was quiet for some time before Susan got up again and said brightly, "I'm going to see if Mum's room is clean for her when she gets home." Her siblings nodded dully and she walked out of the kitchen and up the stairs. She had a lump in her throat.

Dad had not written for three months now. It had never been that long since a letter for each of them came and warmed each of them over with their father's words of comfort.

Susan sighed and walked through the door to hers and Lucy' room. She pulled out her father's last letter to her from underneath her pillow and gazed at it silently.

_My beautiful Susan,_

_Well, my captain has hope that this war will be over soon. Our troops are doing great in numbers and so are our small battle wins. I know how much you must be going through now, and how hard everything is getting for you all, and my love, believe me when I tell you how sorry I am. Things will get better soon, for you and for us as well. _

_Your mum has told me how much you and Peter are helping her, and for this, Susan, I thank you dearly. It is a small comfort to her to have you two on her side and taking care of Ed and Lu for her as she works. Summer will be ending soon, and perhaps by the next we will be able to send you to America as promised. But in the meantime, you know how much I appreciate your help with your younger siblings. Make sure they do okay in the upcoming school year. I know and trust you have the faith to keep up your hope for them in addition to yourself. Perhaps seeing your strength can encourage the others as well._

_All my love to you, my gentle daughter. Remember that things are not always easy, but with love and courage you will always get through._

_Love,  
Dad_

_My gentle daughter_. Susan felt the lump in her throat grow as she reread these words…

The Gentle….

The tears started falling from her dark blue eyes at that thought. Somewhere deep inside her she hated that she was so weak; she wanted herself to be strong like her father willed her to be.

Peter had been banned from the land they had loved, too. Why should she be crying while he was helping little Lucy with her summer homework? Why should she be showing her pain while he offered to help provide income for their hard-working mother?

_Because I'm not magnificent_, Susan thought as she tried to brush her tears away angrily. _I'm nothing but _gentle.

And now as she gazed at her father's letter she thought of how much she missed him, he and Narnia both, and she started to cry harder. Why did London have to fight in the war? And what had she done to cause her permanent ban from Narnia?

Susan buried her face in her pillow so her brave, faithful siblings would not hear her and sobbed. The four of them didn't talk too much about what had happened in Narnia the last time—she preferred it that way. But she didn't know whether or not they felt her pain; if they did not, she would rather keep it to herself.

Somewhere in the distance she heard footsteps on the stairs. She clutched the letter harder in her fist and tried, unsuccessfully, to stop her tears as she heard her bedroom door open. Susan sniffed and closed her eyes against the pillow.

A few moments later she felt the springs of the bed go down as someone sat down next to her, then she felt a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"Susan?" she heard Peter say.

She slowly lifted her head from the pillow and sat up, already furious at herself. She wiped the wetness from her cheeks. Peter waited beside her.

"I'm…I'm fine," she managed to say, putting the same plastic smile on her face. "I just…really, I'm—"

"Oh, Susan," Peter said despairingly, eyes stricken. He pulled her close to him and Susan relaxed against her will into his arms.

"Susan," her brother said softly, "You try so hard to not show how you feel. Can't you see what you're doing to yourself?"

Susan felt the lump in her throat getting bigger and her eyes started melting with tears once again. She fought to hold them back as Peter stroked her hair.

"It's okay," he whispered. "You're allowed to be sad."

She tried to restrain herself. She really did. But both the presence of someone who understood and the misery in her heart took over, and Susan began to cry again, on Peter's shoulder.

"It's okay, Su," he murmured. "I'm here…."

"It's so hard…" she cried, her voice muffled. "I'm j-just…so scared…I don't think a l-letter is ever going to come…."

"I know," Peter said, moving his fingers across her cheek. "I know."

Susan sniffed again, weeping miserably. Peter hugged her close. They stayed that way for an hour, not talking, as the smell of dinner seeped through the open door into the room, as Peter gently fingered her hair and Susan cried until she had no water left in her eyes to cry with. Then she laid her head on his shoulder, feeling somewhat better yet a little ashamed.

Some time later they heard the front door open and their mother's call of, "I'm home!" Susan wiped her cheeks to make sure she was still not crying for what seemed like the thousandth time and Peter swept her hair back from her face.

"I miss him, too, Susan," he said quietly as Edmund and Lucy greeted Helen downstairs. "It's okay to let it show."

"I…" Susan started, then trailed off. "It's hard."

"Don't worry, Su," Peter told her, a real, encouraging smile spreading across his face. "You can always come to one of us. Me, or Edmund, or Lucy. Even Mum, sometimes. You know that."

Susan nodded. She opened her mouth again but her mother's voice echoed upstairs.

"Peter? Susan? Where are you, loves?"

"Coming," they both shouted down at the same time, getting up. Susan brushed down her unkempt hair.

"What were you going to say?" Peter asked her as they walked down the stairs.

Susan shook her head. "Just…thank you," she said softly, sliding her arm through his. "So much."

Peter nodded in his turn and kissed the side of her head as they strode into the kitchen. Their mother hugged them and instantly went into a chatter of her usual questions

"How was your day, dears? Find things to do?"

"Yeah, it was great, Mum," Peter replied. Their mother did not pick up the sarcasm in his tone, but Susan did. "I made sure our shelter was replenished."

"Did you? Thank you, Peter…and Susan, did the bedding get washed?"

"Yes, Mum," Susan answered her.

"Oh, good, you know that's been bothering me…Did Lu do her essay okay?"

"Yes, Mum, I helped her a bit," Peter said.

"That's all right, then. I suppose…Susan, dear, you look terrible! Did you get enough sleep last night? Your eyes are ever so red."

"I'm fine, Mum, really," said Susan cheerfully.

"Are you sure?" Her mother put a hand to her cheek. "Were you crying, dear?"

"I just hit my wrist on the bedpost," Susan lied carefully. "It hurt a lot. It's fine now."

"All, right, Su. You know where the bandages are if you need them."

"Okay."

"But I want you to go to bed early tonight. You do look like you need it."

Susan didn't hear what she responded. She didn't notice the good stew she had taught Lucy to make that was already at the table with cut up bread slices and glasses of water (they only got milk once a week); she didn't notice the dying sunset outside that shed golden light across the lightly furnished kitchen. She was too focused on her worries and Peter's words.

Three months. Not one letter from their father.

Yet for the rest of the night she was thinking that Peter, understanding of her as he was, somehow knew that it was not only the issue of their father that was bothering her. Why hadn't he mentioned Narnia?

Susan only snapped out of her troubles when they were halfway through dinner and Helen looked up and asked them all another question.

"So, dears," she said as her eyes swept across them all. "Did we get any post today?"

**You all know that the summary says that their father dies, so don't be surprised in the next chapter!  
This is my first fan fic so please review, even if it is to flame (respectable criticism, please)!!!**


	2. Chapter 1: The Telegram

**Here's Chapter 2 (or chapter 1, as I'm calling the first bit of this the prologue)**

**Thank you so much to my reviewers who let me know that my first part wasn't complete crap! lol Everyone enjoy!**

Chapter 1

"Susan! Susan, get up, hurry!"

Susan groggily opened her eyes, barely awake and already indignant, looking around for whoever had shaken her arm.

"Su! For God's sake, don't lie there! _Please_ get up! Our neighbor's house is on fire!"

She didn't, couldn't understand it yet; her mother shook her again and someone lit a candle from behind her.

"What…what's going on?" came Lucy's sleepy voice from across the room.

"Nothing, Lu, go back to sleep," Susan heard Peter whisper hurriedly as Mrs. Pevensie shook her yet again.

"Susan!"

"Wh-what?" Susan asked as she sat up, brain functioning a little faster now. "Our neighbor's—"

"Get up!" her mother shrieked and suddenly she _was_ up; she had been tugged to her feet. In instants she was running full speed down the hall and down the stairs, tearing after her mother with Peter at her heals, still trying to understand.

"I need you to stay here with the others," Helen told her frantically as she and Peter ripped their coats from the closet and threw them on over their pajamas. "Whatever you do, _don't you dare leave them or the house_."

Within a second she and Peter were gone, leaving her struggling to comprehend why she was standing at her front door at two in the morning and what her mother had been talking about. Timidly she looked out the window.

People. The first thing she saw were the people, running, sprinting, down the street, yelling and shouting things that were altogether mixed together and therefore lost. Then Susan moved to the left and peered out the window, right of her house.

Flames. Huge, sprawling, smoke spewing flames were roaring, attacking her neighbor's house—the house of the woman that had been widowed a few weeks before. Sparks were spitting into the air, illuminating the dark sky as the whole street gathered before the blaze, yelling in terror and some trying to get through the front door. Susan felt her heart droop and wilt as she watched; some brave men leapt out of the way as a piece of lumber dropped from the roof, instants later it crashed into the grass and another mini-monster cackled and leapt up from the ground.

"Make way! Make way!" came a scream louder then the rest of the crowd and Susan saw two large horses heaving the fire hoses up the street. Within minutes water was being sprayed on the fire on the ground and on the house; but not before the house caved in and the flames crept down to devourer what was left of the home.

"Susan? What's going on?"

Susan whirled around from the window and saw Lucy at the top of the stares. She was already on her way down, a look of utmost confusion on her innocent face.

"Lucy," Susan breathed. She realized her breath had been caught in her chest this whole time. "Go…go back—"

"What's all the noise?"

"…back upstairs—"

Lucy gasped. She leapt down the last few steps and she flew to the window.

"That's our neighbor's house!" she cried, and burst into tears.

Susan slid her arms around Lucy and felt her little body lean into hers. Lucy was saying something into her shoulder but she couldn't make out what it was; instead, Susan held her sister and she watched the scene in silent horror, too shocked to even consider the fact that one person might still be inside; she didn't know that someone had been claimed by the fire that had already destroyed the once beautiful house.

Two days later the ashes and the burnt wood were still at the old house lot. They had been drenched in water as to make sure they wouldn't be fuel for another fire but no one had bothered moving them. The only thing that had been moved from the scene was the body of the widow who had been burned alive in her study; she had been dug out from behind a smoldered sofa and thousands of pieces of wood and gently placed in a bag to be shipped to her only son. Peter and Susan, watching from the upstairs window in the boys' room, saw them do it.

"It was awful," Peter said in a choked tone as they placed the bag in a wagon and carried it away. "We tried to get in, to save her…but—"

Susan touched his arm gently. She knew what he was thinking—that in Narnia it would have been easy for him to pluck up enough courage to slip through burning wood and save an older woman in her time of need. She had no doubt in her mind that had their mother not held him back, Peter would have been among the first inside the flaming home.

"Things happen for a reason," she comforted him. "She's with her husband now, remember?"

Her brother nodded silently, still gazing out the window. They were silent again as they watched cameras being set up and loaded, ready for pictures for the press, then—

"Peter?" came Edmund's voice from up the stairs. "Lucy? Susan? Mum wants to know if we got post yesterday."

"No," Peter and Susan called at the same time, and Peter added, "He came by then and told us no, but I went to the office to make sure."

They heard Edmund repeating this message to Helen, who murmured something from the kitchen, then fell silent.

Lucy's footsteps thundered across the floor a few seconds later, then she came into the room, wedging herself between Peter and Susan to look out the window.

"Oh, Lucy, you don't want to see this," Susan said quickly, laughing and pulling her sister away from the window. "It's such an ugly view now."

"I want to see what's happening," Lucy complained, trying to get past Susan.

"No, Lu," said Peter hurriedly. "We were just about to go downstairs anyway."

"Let's get Mum ready for work, Lu," Susan said cheerfully, and tugged an irritated Lucy into the hall.

"But I want—"

"Lucy, please not today, okay?" Susan begged her. "There are some things you shouldn't see."

"_You_ see them."

"I'm fifteen, Lu. You're _eleven_."

"That doesn't mean—"

"Listen to Susan, Lucy," Peter said, a little sternly, walking out of the room. "And let's go downstairs for breakfast. Mum said we get milk today."

After their mother had left for the dressmakers' shop, Edmund, sighing, sat down with his schoolbooks on the kitchen table and Susan started washing the dishes as usual. Peter sat across from Edmund and watched him reading (or rather, staring down at the page), already bored. Lucy fingered the centerpiece of the table and hummed a little bit, a tune the fauns always used to sing on Dancing Lawn in Narnia. After a while she began to sing the melody.

"_Within the contents of your soul there lies a secret song…a song that falls and grows at times as your life lives on…_"

Susan joined her sister from the sink, harmonizing with Lucy's voice. Edmund and Peter both smiled as their sisters sang; the tune had been a favorite among the four of them. It was, Susan recalled, the song she sang to her siblings when they needed comfort.

"_Whether it is high or low, loud or soft or sweet…the accuracy of your sweet melody means the most to me…Sing to all with honesty, sing for those who don't know truth…sing with faith and don't lose heart; sing the song that lives in you._"

"Remember when they first sang it for us?" Lucy said after a moment of silence. "I wish I could hear them again."

"You girls sounded lovelier then they could ever try to be," Edmund said, regretfully turning back to his books.

It was another couple of seconds while the only sound in the kitchen was the clinking of dishes, then Lucy elaborated, "I miss Narnia."

Ringing silence. Edmund slowly looked up from his books. Susan silently glanced at Peter and saw him doing the same thing to her at the same time. She bit her lip nervously.

"Don't worry, Lu," Edmund said quietly and Peter nodded.

"Aslan did say you and Ed would go back someday," he added.

Susan felt her heart blister open as Lucy sighed, "I know, but it won't be the same!"

"Why ever not?"

"Because it won't be the four of us!" Lucy said impatiently, tears in her eyes. "Only Ed and me will be there! And I'm tired of waiting for that to happen!"

Susan didn't trust her voice enough to speak. She clutched the dishrag with all of her strength and said nothing.

"Lu, waiting is hard, I know," Peter said quietly after a while. "And things aren't going to be the same as always. We're all growing up."

Tears started streaming down Susan's cheeks. Within seconds she was attempting to wipe them away, miserably ashamed on her behalf and feeling the pain of her sister at the same time. She knew what Lucy missed; she missed it, too.

"But we still have Narnia, we have the memories," said Peter, smiling a little bit and taking Lucy's hand in his. "And no amount of growing up will change that."

Lucy smiled; at the same time several tears fell from her eyes and she swatted them away, laughing a little bit. "I suppose Aslan knows what is best."

Susan took a deep, shaky breath and tried to think of something to say. Her siblings looked over at her, startled to see she was crying. Lucy's eyes filled with tears again.

"Oh, Su!" she cried, and she ran over to wrap her arms around her. Susan dropped the dishrag in the sink and hugged her, wanting to take in some of the hurt her sister was feeling, wanting nothing more then Lucy to know that she understood.

By the afternoon Susan was at her usual position outside the house, waiting again for the postman to come and deliver the mail. As usual, the rest of her siblings were inside. Waiting for the mail had become her, and hers only, daily job.

At four o'clock precisely the wagon came inching around the corner; first the noses of the tired old horses, then the faces, then the necks, then eventually the rest of their bodies and the cart. The man had a pile of letters sitting beside him; however he skipped the first three houses at once, saying to the anxious women outside that they had no mail.

Susan clutched her hands and waited. By the time the cart had almost reached her house, she saw, to her dismay, that the man was looking exceptionally grave. His eyes were grieved and his hands were shaking as they reached for the mail of those who were waiting for news from their loved ones—which could only mean one thing. Someone was getting a telegram.

Her heart started to beat and her stomach started churning. A whirling motion suddenly began in her head. By the time the cart drew to a halt in front of her house she felt dizzy.

The man silently got down from the wagon and took a pile of mail from the seat. He walked over to her instead of staying in his shade of his cart, avoiding her eyes and gazing down at the stack in his hands.

Susan waited in utter dread.

"Are…are you a member of the Pevensie family?" the man asked in a shaky voice after a while.

"Yes, sir."

The man nodded and finally looked her in the eye. He drew out a short, stiff paper from his pile and wordlessly held it out to her.

Susan breathlessly took it from him, not looking at it, instead keeping her eyes on the man, waiting for him, begging him, to tell her it was a mistake. The man sighed and closed his eyes briefly. He shook his head sorrowfully.

"I'm sorry," he murmured after a moment or two. "I'm very, very sorry."

Susan watched him climb back into his cart, still shaking his head in sadness, and urge the horses onto the next street, skipping the rest of the houses altogether. She held the wire in her hands and stood there, eyes gazing after where he had gone.

"Oh, my goodness," whispered one of the women from across the street, a hand flying to her mouth.

Shaking so badly her teeth chattered, Susan looked down at the wire grasped in her hands.

_Regret to inform you of your loss STOP. _ _Stanley Pevensie killed during battle STOP. Died saving lives of many STOP. God bless STOP. – Captain Lincoln_

"No," Susan whispered as she gazed down at the telegram. The words were blurring before her eyes as the tears started coming. A bubbling lump came into her throat and suddenly she felt like she couldn't breathe. Everything started to spin…a grief beyond anything she had ever felt started rising in her chest.

"No!" she screamed at the top of her lungs, to let out some of the anguish in her heart. "NOOOOOOOOOO!"

"Susan!"

Susan saw Peter rushing out the front door, panic in his face. Edmund and Lucy were at his heals, all having heard her.

"Susan!" Peter cried in terror as he looked at her. "What…what's…?"

Overwhelming horror took over her entire body; Susan collapsed onto the ground on her knees as she started sobbing hysterically. Peter fell down beside her and seized the telegram from her hands. Edmund and Lucy looked on, frightened.

"What?" Edmund cried after the decade it took for the news to sink in. "But…"

Lucy burst into tears and her body started shaking; Susan automatically reached for her as Edmund bolted toward the house. Peter put his face in his hands, the telegram falling to the ground face up next to Susan. Lucy bawled on Susan's shoulder as the door to their house slammed as Edmund locked himself in.

Neighbors were on their way over, arms open wide, pain in their faces, but the world had shrunken down to the four of them; the three Pevensies in the yard and the one shut up in the house. Grief, Susan realized as she held her brother and sister and cried, could do that to people. Make their worlds so small that everything but them had shriveled up; it could make the connection they might have had with the rest of the world die as well, die with the happiness they had once had.

_Sing with faith and don't lose heart; sing the song that lives in you…_

There was no song in Susan's heart at that moment. That had died along with her father, who had once promised her that things would get better soon.

**Sorry if this is a little cheezy (like the song lol) but my grandparents are going to be in town so I won't be on the computer much. So I tried to finish this as fast as I could.**

**Thanks again to all my reviewers!!! The next chapter will elaborate more on the fire!**


	3. Chapter 2: New House

**So I'm going crazy in Writer Land in my head…lol. Here's Chapter 2! **

**I was a little afraid to post this, because there is a little mature material towards the end of this chapter, but it's all part of the story. Every review I get is taken to heart, so if you don't think the plotline fits, I will be happy to hear your opinions. Enjoy!**

"We're going to live in _this_?" said Edmund in disgust.

Susan sighed. She, Lucy, Edmund, and Peter were standing in a three-room shack that was extremely run down, covered in dirt and dust, and in the outskirts of London—miles away from their lovely house. Its roof leaked, the wooden floors were scratched, the walls were chipped, and it smelled musty and old. The only good thing about it was that it was empty and would be ready for them to move in whenever they pleased.

"Ed, would you rather be living on the streets?" Peter said to him, sharply. Edmund shook his head but still looked revolted.

"This thing looks like it would collapse any second," Lucy said as she looked around. No one answered her.

After selling their old home as quickly as she could, their mother had immediately started looking for a house the five of them could live in on her miniscule income—and had come up with the neglected hovel. The four siblings were horrified to see their pretty decorations, most of the furniture, old clothes, heirlooms, and other articles of their home, taken with their mother to work one day on a cart; when she returned she only had a wad of cash in her coat.

"I don't want to hear a word," she snapped as four angry mouths opened, ready for protests. "We're not going to need a lot of things where we are going to live from now on."

"You sold our house?!" Susan and Edmund demanded at the same time.

"No!" Lucy wailed.

"I offered to work!" said Peter furiously. "And you told me no, and now look—"

"Shut up, all of you!" Helen had shrieked at them. "Don't keep pestering me as if I had a choice!"

Now the four of them exchanged gloomy, miserable looks as they gazed at the decrepit shack that was now going to be their home.

"I suppose we'll have to fix the roof, Ed. Summer rains are going to come soon." Peter said, trying to put a new face on things as he looked up at the ceiling.

"Lucy and I can do something about the floors, can't we, Lu?" said Susan, smiling at her sister. "And the walls could use fresh paint."

"There are only three rooms," Lucy said slowly. "I…I guess it wouldn't be so bad to fix up."

"Maybe Mum will let us pick the color," Susan said brightly.

"Would she let us fix the windows?" Edmund asked, nodding to the grimy squares of glass built into the wall. "I highly doubt that opens."

"Well, I highly doubted the door opened, and look where we're standing now," Peter said dryly.

"I wonder which one will be our room," Lucy said as she looked to the two doors that led to the other two rooms. There was one door on each side of the room where they were standing, the biggest one.

"I wonder if we'll starve to death eventually," Edmund said.

"Ed," Susan said gently.

"Well, we might, with the amount of food we already have!" he said, shrugging.

"Mum wouldn't let us starve, would she?" Lucy asked with wide eyes.

"Oh course not, Lucy," Peter said. "Shh…here she comes now."

Their mother was walking through the front door with a slimy, greasy-haired man with rotten teeth. His hard eyes darted to the woodwork on the door once they were inside. He looked like he belonged in the shack; Mrs. Pevensie, however, with eyes that were always red nowadays, with huge bags underneath them ever since she had taken on more hours of work in hopes of earning more money, looked lost and confused rather then being at home.

"See, the doorframe is fine," the man was saying. "Jus' a little rotted out."

"I…I suppose," Mrs. Pevensie murmured.

"You haven't told me when I'll get my down payment yet," the man said, turning to look at her suspiciously.

Helen nodded and attempted to smile. "I know, Mr. Byron," she said distractedly. "I'll get it to you within the week. Things are a little rocky right now…"

"I don't care whether they're rocky or smooth as glass. I've been generous for two weeks now, I don't intend on lettin' this slide any more."

"I'm sorry, I know…by the end of this week at the latest," their mother said, stammering a little bit. Then she saw her children watching her.

"Ah, Mr. Byron, these are my children, Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy." She sounded glad to get off the subject of finances. "This is our landlord, children." There was silence for a second, then Helen raised her eyebrows a little bit at them.

"Oh…yes, pleased to meet you, sir," Peter said and his siblings repeated his words.

Mr. Byron nodded once to them as his eyes swept over their appearances. His greedy eyes rested on Susan.

Susan shivered but stared right back into the deep, black abyss that gazed at her unblinkingly. After a moment his eyes swept down to the rest of her body. Peter, frowning, stepped forward a little bit so that she was somewhat behind him, and stared at the landlord with narrowed eyes. Lucy, judging by the way she took a few steps backward, seemed scared. Edmund looked annoyed.

"If you want something to look at, try looking around at what you need to fix up in this shack," he snapped out at Mr. Byron.

"Edmund!" gasped Helen, who hadn't understood what had happened, as Mr. Byron's eyes snapped to Edmund. "How rude of you!"

"No need to worry, ma'am," Mr. Byron said smoothly as he gave Edmund a cold glare then turned back to Susan's face again. He then looked back to Mrs. Pevensie. "Children aren't too smart nowadays."

Edmund turned brick red with fury. Lucy put her hand on his.

"I would watch what you say from now on, boy," Mr. Byron said softly. He turned to Helen again.

"The shack is yours without the down payment if you wish, but I'll want a higher mortgage for the firs' three months."

"That's fine," Helen said heavily. She glared at Edmund for a moment more, then fixed her attention on Byron. "Not too higher, though."

"And no cleaning crew. I'll not waste m'time on orderin' people to pick up a little dirt and hammer a couple of nails into the ceilings. Last offer."

"I'll take it," they heard Helen say as she followed Mr. Byron outside again. She mouthed _we'll_ _talk_ _later_ at Edmund before disappearing.

There was a ringing silence. Lucy looked from Susan to Edmund to Peter. Peter glared the door, where Mr. Byron had disappeared. Susan felt slightly shaky.

"Did you _see_ that!" Edmund nearly howled. "Did you bloody _see_ that?"

"Edmund, watch it!" Peter shouted suddenly, making Lucy flinch.

"Relax, Ed, _please_," Susan said gently, wrapping her arms around him. "And you, too, Peter. It's not like it hasn't happened before."

"He was staring at you, Susan, in case you guys didn't you notice," Edmund snapped.

"You think I didn't notice?" Peter yelled. "You think you're the only one who wants to run people through when they stare at her like that?"

"Stop it," Susan said angrily, letting go of Edmund and facing Peter. "It's no big deal!"

"Yes it is, Su," Peter said, face softening as he looked at her. "That wasn't a polite stare. At all."

"Will you get over it?" begged Susan. "Please?"

Edmund rolled his eyes and turned to Lucy to mutter angrily; Peter looked at Susan incredulously. "Oh, _stop_ it," she snapped out at him, then turned around and turned her back to him, facing her younger siblings.

"Edmund, please let it go, okay?" she asked Edmund quietly.

Edmund sighed but said nothing. Susan kissed the top of his head, then turned to Lucy.

"When we get our room, which side do you want?" she asked her cheerfully, wanting nothing more than for them all to let it pass. To her relief, Lucy instantly started chattering, and they all walked around a little more as their mother finished up with Mr. Byron, Susan putting every effort into getting her siblings to not complain and avoiding Peter's eyes.

When Mrs. Pevensie came back in, she looked more depressed then the siblings had ever seen her. Mr. Byron was gone.

"Mum?" Lucy asked quietly as their mother walked toward them. "Which one is my and Susan's room?"

"Your room?" Helen asked blankly. "Oh, rooms. You four will get the one on the right side. I'll put the rest of the furniture in mine so we can use it as a living room, and—"

"Peter and I have to share with the girls?" Edmund gasped, a look of repulsion on his face.

"You four are brothers and sisters; I don't want to hear complaining," Mrs. Pevensie said, sounding so exhausted neither of the four decided to protest. "Su and Lucy will get one bed, Edmund; you and Peter will get another. It won't be that bad."

"How will we—?" Lucy started indignantly, then stopped abruptly and murmured, "nothing."

"What, Lu?" Helen asked warily.

"Undress," Lucy said quietly. "In front of each other."

"I said before that you all are brothers and sisters, so that won't be a problem," Mrs. Pevensie said, then she started walking around, examining the house and murmuring to herself. Edmund looked horrified.

"This is _great_," he whispered with wide eyes when their mother poked her head into one of the small rooms. "Not only do I get to live in a dump; I have to see my sisters undressing every day."

"For God's sake, Edmund, we'll all turn the other way," Susan said impatiently.

"Yeah, well—"

"All right, I suppose we'll call a cab and go back, now," Helen said as she walked back to them from the other side of the room. "Our things are pretty much packed and the new family is coming tomorrow to stay; we'll have to move our things in here by next night."

The four of them nodded and started to stride out the door, but Mrs. Pevensie called, "Peter? Su? Come here for a second, please."

The two of them sighed and retreated back to their mother. Edmund and Lucy looked at them, shrugged, and kept on walking; Edmund was still in shock.

"Yes, Mum?" Peter asked softly, once the other two were outside. "Is everything okay?"

For a moment she made no reply. Then she took a breath and said, "I'm sure you two know that things are going to be…different…from now on."

Peter and Susan nodded. Peter tried to catch her eye but Susan didn't look at him.

"And you know that my hours at work have increased since…since your father isn't here to send earnings back home."

Susan blinked back tears hurriedly as she nodded again.

"I want you to know that I will need help with the Ed and Lucy," Helen told them quietly. "Can I count on you both to make sure they're well and safe when I'm gone during the day?"

"Of course, Mum," Susan said brightly, and Peter said, "Absolutely."

"And when you're all in school next fall…will you do all you can to help them?"

"We will."

She nodded. There was a moment's pause.

"I don't know what I would do if I didn't have you two to help me," Mrs. Pevensie said suddenly. She gave them both a small, tender smile and whispered, "Thank you."

Susan quietly stepped forward and put her arms around her mother. She hugged Susan close, briefly, and she took in her mother's sweet perfume; as she did a deep longing came over her—for what, she did not know.

Her mother moved back and touched her cheek. "My beauty," she murmured, one finger lightly moving over her skin. Up close, her eyes looked more depressed and tired then ever. Susan concentrated as hard as she could on her mother's eyes. _I will not cry_, she told herself firmly. _I will not cry, I will not_…

"It'll be all right, Mum," Peter said, speaking the words Susan could not. Helen's lips twitched a little bit; she moved over to Peter and hugged him briefly.

"Of course it will," she said, voice sounding much stronger. "Everything will be fine." She smiled warmly and nodded at the door. "We should go."

Susan nodded and walked outside to her younger siblings. Peter held back.

"Mum?" he asked as Mrs. Pevensie started walking out the door. She turned around.

"Yes, dear? What is it?"

"Did…did you see that?"

"See what, Peter?"

"The way he looked at us."

"Mr. Byron?"

"No, Mum, the mouse in the corner," Peter said sarcastically. "Yes, Byron. Did you see?"

"See what?"

"The way he looked at us!"

"What do you mean, 'the way he looked at us'?"

"Not _us_," Peter said irritably. "Did you see the way he looked at _Susan_?"

Mrs. Pevensie was silent for a split second as this sunk in. Then she frowned. "Peter, stop being paranoid. All men glance at her now."

"Mum, it wasn't just a wow-look-how-pretty-you-are kind of glance; it wasn't even a _glance_," Peter said. "It downright staring. And he wasn't staring at her _face_, either."

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Peter. You're too protective of her, you know that?" Mrs. Pevensie was frustrated now. "Why in the world would Mr. Byron be staring at her in that way?"

"Why do you think?" Peter snapped.

His mother was taken aback. Then suddenly her eyes were full of anger.

"Peter! Where would you get an idea like _that_? Susan is _fifteen_."

"He wouldn't care, Mum! He'd still—"

"Mr. Byron might not be the most pleasant person in the world, but he never, ever, _ever_ do something like that; least of all to _my_ daughter!"

"Yes, he would," muttered Peter.

"Stop it. _Now_." Helen turned and walked away from him, fuming. Peter fought the urge to shout after her. He sighed and pressed a hand to his eyes.

_Dad would listen to me_, he couldn't help thinking. _He probably would have noticed Byron gawking at Susan in the first place._

"Peter!" came Lucy's voice from outside. "We're walking to the cab station!"

Peter took another glance around the small, pitiful shack and strode out the door, shutting in quietly behind him. His family was already walking down the street, Helen snapping at Edmund for his "rude" behavior.

"Didn't you notice, Mum? He was stating at her for like twenty seconds!"

"Knock it off, Edmund!"

"What, you didn't see? It was—"

"Shut up! You and Peter both! What the bloody hell is the matter with you?"

Peter saw Susan, at the back of the group, give an angry sigh as she heard this. He caught up to her.

"Susan."

She, finally, turned her head and looked at him. Her face was full of irritation and misery, kept hidden so well the last hour they had stayed at the house.

"Things _are_ going to be different from now on," she whispered, sapphire eyes full of tears. Peter linked his arm with hers as they walked but he could say nothing. Lucy, hearing Susan, hung back to take her other arm.

"That's okay, though," she whispered back, gazing up at Susan. "We have you."

For a second Peter thought Susan was going to burst into tears. What she did, however, was the complete opposite of what he had been expecting.

"Oh, Lucy!" she said, then she started to laugh.

Lucy looked astonished for a moment or too; then she hugged Susan hard as Susan wrapped her arms around her.

For ages none of them had heard Susan laugh. In fact, it had been ages since any of them had laughed. Edmund turned around as though not daring to believe his ears, and, seeing his sisters, smiled with a bemused expression on his face.

A huge grin broke across Peter's face as he shook his head wordlessly at his brother. Somehow Susan could overcome anything thrown at her, pulling the others along with her as she did.

**Okay, so I didn't elaborate on the fire. Next chapter, though!**

**I felt like Susan was always crying one way or another, so I had her be somewhat happier at the end here. And I kind of switched PoVs…oh well. Anyway, I hope you guys liked it.**

**I can't give enough thanks to all my reviewers!!! It makes my day to see a new one waiting for me. And you all leave such sweet reviews. Thank you, thank you, thank you!**


	4. Chapter 3: Different Times

Sorry about the slow update, but after writing two chapters in like four hours my mind went blank on me (lol). So I had to wait for an inspiration.

**Thank you so much to my reviewers!!! Enjoy!**

For a tiny little house, the shack required a lot of work to make it suitable for living in.

"All right, Lucy!" Peter said with a bright smile on his face as he, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy stood, once again, in the big room of their new house (or, as Edmund described it, the Dung Shed). "You want to start painting now?"

"Yes!" Lucy said eagerly. Susan smiled. Their mother said she couldn't afford paint but if they wanted they could scrape the old chipped coat off the ancient walls and they'd find a wooden wall that would look nicer. Now the scrapping was always referred to as "painting" to make Lucy feel better about living in a dung shed.

The four of them started scraping off the paint with old rusty spatulas their mother hadn't been able to pawn off; considering the size of the shack it didn't take too much time. Before long Susan swept off the wooden floors with an old broom, and she and Lucy started scrubbing it—something Edmund looked appalled at.

"What?" Susan asked as she looked up, catching Edmund shaking his head.

"I've only seen poor women get on their hands and knees to wash the floors," he muttered, shrugging. "It just never hit me until now that we…we _are_ poor."

"Only if you look at it that way, Ed," Peter said from the front doorway. He was sanding the edges so the door would click in more smoothly when it was shut.

Lucy wrung out her rag then sat on her heals, glaring at the stubborn dirt on the wooden floor. "This is impossible," she said, irritated.

Susan laid down her rag as well. "It is hard," she agreed. "But it's not impossible."

"You get this piece of dirt out from the floor, then!" her sister retorted. Light-hearted Lucy was so cross it startled Susan. Quietly she took the rag in her hands and scrubbed the grime with all her strength. It took several minutes, but eventually the stain wore away.

"See, Lu?" she said brightly as she handed back the rag to her sister. "You just have to keep at it for a long time sometimes. Things aren't always easy, but we can always get through them."

Peter looked up at her in amazement, then Susan remembered with a start where she had gotten the phrase. Her heart pounded as she remembered her father's letters, still in the cart outdoors with all of the other few belongings of their new household. Her eyes stung a little bit and she looked away.

Lucy still looked unconvinced. "I just wish the floor was clean."

"I do, too," Susan told her gently, "so we better keep on at it."

Lucy huffed irritably but started scrubbing again. Susan dipped her rag in the murky water sitting in a bucket next to her and continued the task.

Edmund walked outside to get towels once they were done; by that time Peter had finished the doorway, so all four of them dried the now-clean floors thoroughly. Lunch was hastily eaten before Peter and Edmund went outside to bring in the three beds, couch, tables, chairs, nightstand, and the heavy boxes; Susan and Lucy were able to bring in the small boxes and start unpacking.

By the time their mother arrived home for dinner that night, the house had been cleaned during the morning and put together in the afternoon. The minuscule house had seemed small the day before; now it was even tinier. Across from the front door was the kitchen part of the great room; to its right was the siblings' room, then to the left was their mother's. In the corner on the right there was the bathroom (the room the Pevensies decided not to count as one) then the "living room" portion of the home was before their mother's closed door. The couch faced the left side of the wall so it enclosed the little area. Lucy had hung up one of the few pictures they had left across from the couch, one they all had been looking for for ages.

"How different this house looks!" Helen exclaimed with a little too much enthusiasm as she walked across the threshold. It was true enough. The windows shone from the sunset's glow; the walls were clean, the floor could be seen (gasp!) and everything looked somewhat in order. In the rooms Susan had made the beds while Edmund made sure the two in their room were far apart.

"You did a wonderful job, you four," their mother said happily as she put down a bag of groceries. "I can see you've lit those old lanterns I've been looking for. And you've gotten dinner ready, too. And…oh…."

Her eyes had caught on the picture Lucy had put up. She walked over to it and gazed at it without a word. It was a picture of the four of them when they were younger. It was at their first house, in the backyard at springtime. At that particular time Peter had been six years old, Susan five, Edmund three, and Lucy only one. Peter had his arms around Lucy protectively with Susan's chin on his shoulder, Edmund leaning against his side and hugging his arm, reaching for Lucy as well. Lucy's happy little toothless smile was wide on her face as was Edmund's, though his involved his three-year old "fangs" Peter used to call them, as he had bitten anything and everything at his age. Susan's dark, wavy hair already fell to her shoulders, her deep eyes gazed intently into the camera; Peter had a half grin on his young face and his head leaned toward Susan's. All four of them had their hands intertwined.

"I haven't seen this in years," their mother whispered as she touched the photograph. She smiled. "Your father always said it was worth making you guys sit still for ten minutes during that picnic." She laughed and turned to them. "All you wanted to do was chase the butterflies. Remember that?"

Susan smiled weakly. It was during that picnic Peter had showed her what butterflies were, letting one land on his finger and showing her the tiny feathers that covered its wings. It flew away after Lucy had tried to grab it.

"Any news on the fire, Mum?" Edmund asked quietly after a moment of silence. "The one that destroyed our old neighbor's house?"

"It's been a while since we've heard anything about it," Peter added.

Helen sighed and wrenched her eyes away from the picture. "Apparently it was caused by our neighbor herself. There's been no proof that suggests otherwise." Their eyes widened, and she sadly went on, "Apparently she couldn't stand to live with the presence of her husband's artifacts in the house, so she just…put a torch to his things. Without bothering to think of the situation it put her in, I might add."

Lucy's eyes were huge. Susan put a hand on her shoulder.

"They buried her in the graveyard near her son," Mrs. Pevensie said as she walked over to the kitchen table, looking at the food they had fixed. "And I heard they were going to clear away the lot her house used to be in and rebuild the foundation for another house."

"Life goes on," Lucy whimpered as her hand reached up to Susan's.

"Life goes on," their mother agreed, sighing again. "But anyway…we'll have to eat fast. My boss let me come home for dinner tonight because of the circumstances, but I have to work until nine-thirty or ten to make up for time I've already lost."

"That's ridiculous," muttered Edmund.

"It may be, Ed, but we get food on our table because of my job," Mrs. Pevensie said, voice suggesting coldness, as she sat down.

"I told you, I could—"

"I don't want you out and working nowadays, Peter!" Helen said hotly. "Besides, you need to stay here and take care of the others."

"I can take care of them, Mum," Susan offered. Peter cast her a grateful look.

"I know you can," her mother told her shortly, "but I feel better when Peter is here. And you, too, Ed," she said hastily as Edmund opened his mouth.

"I'm not four any more, I'm eleven, in case you didn't notice!" Lucy piped up angrily as Edmund started to protest anyway. "I can—"

"Be quiet, all of you!" Mrs. Pevensie shouted. They all stopped talking and she went on in a calmer voice, "Lucy, we live in a part of town now where terrible things happen to young girls. I feel better when your older brothers are looking after you. Peter, I forbid you to look for a job, for reasons I will explain to you later. Now, please, let's eat before I have to return to work."

Dinner was eaten in silence. Everyone was glaring at their plates and eating sullenly. Their mother, depressed beyond anything Susan had seen, ate and praised the food with fresh enthusiasm, before taking her plate to the sink and putting the food in the bag of groceries away.

"Listen, all of you," she said as she turned back to them when she was done, "Peter and Susan are in charge. I want you younger two in bed by nine-fifteen; I'll be home by nine-thirty or ten. Be careful of fires and make sure the door is locked when I'm gone. Okay?"

They nodded and she quietly went around and kissed their heads. She walked over to the door, opened it, hesitated, and then turned back. "I love you four," she said softly, gripping the doorknob. Her face was full of suffering yet she managed a small smile for them. "Be safe."

After the dishes were washed and the tiny house cleaned up (which wasn't hard to do, seeing that they had just cleaned it hours before) the four of them sat on the couch and looked at the picture of the four of them, not talking very much. When night fell and beggars and dirty men started walking past their window, Susan quickly rose and shut the curtains. Peter checked the door to see if it was locked.

At nine o'clock Susan quietly asked Lucy and Edmund to get ready for bed. Without a word they, one by one, went into their room to change and again to the bathroom to brush their teeth. Peter blew out some of the lanterns they had lit in the house and herded them into their room.

"See, it wasn't that difficult," Susan told Edmund teasingly as he got into bed, attempting to smile. "We could get used to this, right?"

He shrugged. Lucy hopped into the other bed and placed her head on the pillow, mouth drawn tightly.

Peter sighed and leaned against the doorframe. Susan quietly sat down on Edmund's bed and pulled the covers over his head. "Good night," she said to him. He was silent. "Ed?" she asked gently. He looked at her.

"I miss Dad," he whispered, unexpectedly.

Peter stiffened in the doorway. Lucy slowly raised her head from her pillow, eyes already wet with tears.

"Oh, Ed," Susan said helplessly. She touched his cheek with her finger. "I know. I miss him, too."

Edmund swallowed, already embarrassed, and shrugged. "I…I just…" he muttered. "He always used to talk to me before I went to bed. About sports, school. Stuff."

Susan ran her thumb over the single tear that fell from his eyes. Peter came over and sat down on Lucy's bed.

"Think about how he died, Ed," he said quietly. "He died for his country. For all of us. The same way we would go and fight wars for Narnia."

Lucy quivered slightly from under her bed covers. Peter looked over and pulled them back, only to see her cheeks wet and her eyes red. Without a word he pulled her into his arms, murmuring, "It's okay, Lucy, it's okay…"

"I m-miss N-Narnia, too," she wailed into his shoulder. "I miss Dad." Peter's face scrunched up for a moment or two and Susan's vision went blurry. She let the tears come this time. She looked back at Edmund to see him pawing away at his cheeks, blinking furiously.

"I want to sleep now," he murmured. Susan bit her lip.

Lucy sniffed and said, "Me, too."

Susan had never felt so helpless as she did then. She and Peter exchanged a stricken glance—neither one of them wanted to leave; yet they both felt like they needed to.

"Okay," she whispered and she got up from Edmund's bed. Lucy crawled back to her pillow.

"I told this to Su, guys. It's okay to be sad," said Peter quietly. "It wouldn't even be normal if we weren't sad."

Lucy sniffed again and said, "At least we're going back to Narnia."

"Someday," Peter assured her, looking at Susan again, brow furrowed in concern. Susan smiled at him reassuringly.

"Good night, then," she said softly. She bent over and kissed Edmund's head. "I love you, Ed."

He said nothing, staring at the cream bed covers.

She moved over to Lucy as her younger sister held out her arms for a hug. Susan embraced her for several long moments before sweeping her hair back from her face and gently wiping at her cheeks.

"It'll all be okay," she said as she kissed her head. "I love you, Lu."

"I love you, too, Susan," she murmured. She lay back against her pillows and Susan lightly tugged the covers over her.

"We'll come in when Mum comes home," Peter said, mostly to Edmund. "See you in a bit."

Edmund nodded and murmured, "Goodnight." Lucy echoed him.

Peter and Susan quietly stepped out the door into the main room, Peter pulling the door shut behind him.

"What time is it?" Susan asked.

Peter squinted at the tiny clock above the stove. "Nine-fifteen exactly."

"She should be home soon, then," Susan said. Peter nodded and they walked across the little room. Susan went to the kitchen part of it to pour water into the kettle, already over the gas stove, for her mother's tea. Peter leaned against the wall and listened into the room. Edmund and Lucy were silent.

"It'll be okay," he said suddenly, more to himself then any other of his siblings. Regardless, Susan answered him, "It always is."

Peter sighed and started to walk over to the couch. Before he had sat down, however, the silence was broken by a sudden rapping at their front door.

**Cliffhanger! Lol. I have the rough draft of the next chapter ready, though, so I'll update soon!**


	5. Chapter 4: Dangerous Visitor

**Two chapters in one day! I'm insane… :)**

**So most of this is just Peter/Susan bonding fluff, through there _is_ some foreshadowing here (hint, hint, lol). Enjoy!**

* * *

Susan looked up, startled. Peter's stopped dead in his tracks. Their heads turned to the door.

Another tap. They looked at each other nervously.

"Doesn't Mum have a key?" Susan asked him uncertainly. He nodded, clearly confused, as someone knocked on the door again.

Peter cautiously crept toward the window. He pushed aside the curtain a fraction of an inch and peered out. Instantly he drew back.

"It's Byron," he whispered, voice full of alarm.

Susan's heart filled with panic…maybe because she remembered the way he had looked at her the other day; maybe it was just instinct.

"Should we answer it?" Susan asked her brother.

"Absolutely not," Peter replied, walking away from the door as Byron knocked on it again. They both were talking in hushed voices. "After he completely—"

"Drop it," Susan told him sharply, heart beating. The house only had a few lanterns lit so they could see. He wouldn't know they were home. "Maybe he'll—"

At that instant the kettle decided it was time to let out an earsplitting whistle to let the world know its contents were hot. Peter's eyes widened at the sound and Susan grimaced. There was no way he wouldn't have heard that…

"He's our landlord," Susan whispered. "I suppose we have to let him in."

"I don't think so," Peter snorted. "He is _not_ going to get another show of my sister while I'm here…"

"Peter!"

"You _want_ him to come in?"

Byron knocked yet again. Susan hissed, "He's not going to go away unless we give him what he wants."

"I _know_ what he bloody wants."

"_Peter_," Susan snapped angrily. "Just open the door. It's not like he'll have a rifle on him."

Peter sighed with irritation, then strode over to the door again and put his hand on the doorknob. He looked back at Susan and nodded toward their mother's room.

It took Susan a second to get the hint. She would have objected had she not seen the little flicker of fear in Peter's eyes and realized that he was actually scared for her; he didn't want Byron near her any more then she herself did.

She nodded and strode quietly over to the room, a ripple of anger going through her as Byron pounded—not knocked but pounded—on their door again. Would he break down the bloody door if he felt like it?

"Thank you," Peter mouthed to her in relief as she closed the door, all but a crack so she could see. He took a deep breath and pulled open the front door. Sure enough, Byron was standing there.

"Good evening," he said in a soft voice. He had a bowler cap in his hands and his eyes were already looking around Peter. "May I come in for a moment, please."

It wasn't a question. It was a demand.

"I apologize for coming so late," Byron said smoothly as Peter stood speechless in the doorway. "But I really need to speak with your mother."

"I'm sorry, she's not home from work yet," Peter said in a tone that Susan would have most certainly taken as a warning had she been in their landlord's shoes. Byron's eyes narrowed. "May I take a message for her?"

"Not home from work," Byron stated in a toneless voice. "Are you sure?"

"Quiet sure, sir," Peter said coldly. "May I take a message for her?"

Byron's eyes flickered. He didn't answer the question—instead he asked one of his own.

"You're waiting up for her, then?" he asked quietly.

"Yes, sir," Peter said in a clipped voice.

"So the rest of your siblings are asleep, I suppose."

"Of course, sir."

Byron did nothing.

"Forgive me if I'm being rude, Mr. Byron, but my mother is not home at the moment and you have yet to give me a message for her," said Peter icily. Susan thought he was doing a good job hiding how furious he had to be. "I'm sure if you stop by at a later time you might find her."

"Such as?" Byron inquired dangerously.

Peter hesitated. "In another hour…perhaps," he said, some doubt in his tone.

"I see," said Byron quietly. He didn't move.

"So stop by then," Peter said, dismissing him with those single words.

"How will I know she'll be here?"

"She'll be here," Peter said firmly. "Do you want me to give her a message or not?"

His anger, hidden for the last few minutes, was clearly conveyed here. Byron stood there for a moment longer, then without a word, he turned on his heel and stalked away. Peter kept the door open for a moment longer, then, apparently after Byron had disappeared, he slammed it shut so hard two of the three lanterns in the house vanished with a puff of sudden air. Susan quietly slipped out of her mother's room.

"Bastard," Peter snarled at the closed door.

Susan softly walked over to him and locked the door. "I suppose he was mad Mum wasn't home."

"Oh, okay," her brother growled. "And I suppose he asked whether you guys were in bed because he cared about our well-being."

"Peter," Susan said gently as she put a hand on his shoulder. He was trembling with fury. "Please let it go. _Please_."

Peter was quiet for a long time, breathing hard and glaring at the door. Susan pushed his hair back from his face with her hand and smoothed it down.

"Mum should be home any time now, she wouldn't want to see us so upset," Susan begged him quietly. "Let it go."

Peter calmed down over a few minutes as she stroked his head.

"I got this feeling," he said after a while in a voice very close to a whimper, surprising Susan. "You know how I get when…when men come to our door and it's obvious they're looking for you."

"Peter," Susan whispered but her brother shook his head.

"I know I'm being stupid, okay?" he said angrily, looking at her finally. "I just…I just thought of…I remembered Rabadash…."

Susan's blood froze and for a second she felt as though she had lost the air in her lungs. Peter looked scared as he studied her face.

"I'm sorry," he told her earnestly, sadness in his eyes. "You know me. I'm paranoid."

Susan smiled shakily. "You're so stupid, Peter," she said, laughing a bit.

Peter grinned back, then wrapped his arms around her and hugged her close. "I love you, too, you annoying brat that I have to call my sister."

"But I'm always right," Susan reminded him, leaning her head against his cheek.

Peter snorted. "Always."

Susan remembered something then added, "Not always."

"When have you not ever been right?" Peter asked in mock astonishment, drawing away from her. "My sister was _wrong_ once in her life?"

"Oh, shut up," Susan said and Peter laughed. "I meant when you told me to let out my feelings when I needed to. That's when I was wrong."

"What were you wrong about?"

"I was trying to hide how I felt," Susan said quietly. "That's where I was wrong."

"You make no sense."

"Maybe you just don't get complex things."

Peter laughed again. Susan, suddenly remembering, whispered, "Shh!" and they both stood silently for a moment, listening for the voices of Edmund and Lucy, but they heard none.

"Wonder how they slept through Byron's visit," Peter murmured. They walked back to their stations—Susan to the kitchen portion to heat their mother's tea again, and Peter to the couch next to the door—to wait again in silence. Within another fifteen minutes there was a soft rattle of keys outside, then a jiggling of the doorknob handle as the front door finally opened. Both Peter and Susan put on convincing smiles for her as their mother walked in, looking extremely run down and dead on her feet.

"Hello, Mum," Susan said pleasantly as Peter took off Helen's coat. "Was the rest of you day good?"

She needn't have asked; her mother's eyes said it all. However, Mrs. Pevensie said softly, "Well, the hours _are_ longer but my work isn't terribly hard. And my boss is kind to me. He offered to give a raise within the next month after he heard of our…our situation here."

"Are you hungry, Mum?" Peter asked, guiding her toward the kitchen.

"Just a little," she shrugged as she sat down at the little table. "Susan, dear, is there any…oh, good," she said as Susan put down a bowl of soup in front of her with a cup of tea. "Thank you, lovey."

She quietly began to sip the soup and Susan and Peter sat down next to her.

"I assume Lucy and Edmund are asleep?" Mrs. Pevensie inquired into the silence. Peter nodded.

"Yeah, they're in bed," he said. He caught Susan's eye and raised an eyebrow. Susan tilted her head slightly. They looked at each other silently, debating whether or not they should tell their mother about Byron.

"Is something wrong, dears?" Helen asked them, forehead creasing as she looked up again.

Susan gave Peter a look that said, _If you must_, and Peter awkwardly said, "Actually, Mum, Byron stopped by just a little while ago. He said he wanted to talk to you."

Helen slowly put down her spoon. Her expression was unreadable. "He asked for me?"

"Yes," Susan said.

"But you answered the door to find this out."

"Yes, Mum," replied Peter. Quickly, he went on, "I didn't let him see Su. And he wasn't exactly threatening us…"

_Yeah, okay_, thought Susan.

"…So I thought it was okay. You know, to answer the door."

"He wouldn't stop knocking," Susan added.

"I suppose I'll stop by his house in the morning," Helen said quietly. She picked up her spoon again. "He didn't leave a message?"

"I asked if he wanted me to tell you something, but he just left," Peter said.

Helen sighed deeply. "Mr. Byron is very direct. I should think it natural for him not to want to speak with anyone else about matters…matters not concerning them, I suppose."

Peter opened his mouth in irritation but Susan stomped on his foot under the table.

_Don't push it_, she quietly told him without words. Peter gave her a look.

_She thinks Byron is doing nothing wrong_, he mouthed.

_Technically he's not_.

_So gawking at you is not wrong, then_.

"_Peter_," Susan hissed through clenched teeth. Their mother looked up at them.

"Peter? Su? Are you sure everything is okay?"

"Of course, Mum," they both said cheerfully.

"That was all Byron wanted?"

"No, Mum," Peter said. Susan kicked him. He bit his lip and glared at her but said nothing aloud.

"What else did he want?"

"Something he'll never get," Peter said smoothly, then he sat up. "I think I'm going to go to bed."

"Me, too," Susan said quickly, rising as well.

"All right, dears," Mrs. Pevensie said in confusion, looking between the two of them. "Go in the room quietly; don't wake your siblings."

"Goodnight," they said, then walked silently into the room. Behind the closed door, Susan shoved her brother's shoulder out of irritation.

"Stop it," they both hissed at each other at the same time, then Susan went on, "Peter, I am asking you to let this go. You're acting like Byron is obsessed with me."

"Well—"

"I mean it, Peter. Let it _go_." Susan turned and twisted the lamp on the nightstand on, so that light flickered in the room. She turned to her bed but she stopped short.

Edmund was lying next to Lucy, his arm around her waist and Lucy holding his wrist as though her grip was the only thing keeping her in the world. Both of them were sound asleep. It was clear they had been crying; the pillow was wet and their cheeks were damp; nonetheless the sight of them melted Susan's heart.

"Susan, you're being—" Peter retorted at her in fury, then he, too, saw their younger siblings sleeping soundly. His mouth closed. It was dead silent in the room.

"Look at them," Susan breathed, throat choking up. Peter bit his lip as they gazed at their siblings, breathing softly and peacefully. Lucy sniffed a little bit in her sleep, head sinking back a little more into the pillow

"It's not fair," Peter said softly after a period of time. "Look how little they are. And they have to face so many things."

Susan nodded and pushed a piece of hair back behind her ear.

"And so do we," Peter added in a different voice.

Susan kept her eyes on Edmund and Lucy. After a while she felt arms sliding around her waist.

"I'm sorry," Peter whispered in her ear. "I'm sorry for getting so upset."

Susan put her hands over Peter's but didn't say anything. She kept on gazing at her siblings.

"Can you forgive me?" Peter said quietly, trying to get her to look at him.

"You know I can," Susan told him easily. "But the question is whether or not I _will_."

"Please, Su."

"Maybe."

There was a pause.

"Would it help if I told you that I love you more then life?" Peter asked. "And that my older brother contract says that no matter where you go I have to follow you everywhere and make sure you're safe, so sometimes it's not my fault?"

"You'd follow me everywhere."

"For the rest of your life, Susan."

Susan smiled and turned her head to look at him. "Thanks," she said sarcastically.

"I mean it."

"Okay."

"So am I forgiven?"

Susan snorted. "You wish."

"Su."

"Forgiven."

There was another moment of silence before Susan added, "And I love you, too, you irritating monster that I have to call my brother."

Peter smiled and pressed his cheek against hers. They gazed at Edmund and Lucy for a while longer, then before long their mother knocked on their door.

"Go to bed, you two," she whispered softly through the doorway. "The light will wake up the others."

"Good night," they called back, then they heard their exhausted mother tiptoe away.

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**I figured out how to do that line thingy... :) Yes, I know I'm weird. **

**Wow, that was random. Well, anyway. Hope you liked it and I'll try to update soon! Thank you _millions_ to my reviewers!**


	6. Chapter 5: Familiar Day

**Hi, everyone! Sorry about the REALLY LONG update; but my family and I just went through a move across the country and I've started a new school with a ton of homework….plus, my brain went dead on me and I wasn't sure about what to write next. :)  
Hope you guys enjoy this chapter! Please please please review and thank you to all those who are!**

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By the time Susan walked into the kitchen with Lucy the next morning, Edmund was putting a large, rather burnt breakfast on the table and Peter was getting rid of a small fire blazing in the oven. The girls wrinkled their noses against the stench.

"Told you I could do it!" Edmund was saying proudly to Peter as he gazed at the steaming dish of bacon and toast. "Our first breakfast in the Dung Shed! See? Our food looks delicious."

Lucy choked mockingly as she sat down and Edmund flicked her on the top of her head with his fingers. Susan smiled.

"Did you have to burn down the kitchen, too?" she asked teasingly.

"It's only a little fire!" Edmund protested with dignity. Behind him, Peter gave a yelp as he singed his fingers inside the oven, waving his hand around franticly.

"Yes, I can see that," Susan said, voice serious.

Lucy giggled. "If you want that fire out, Peter, wet the rag first."

Peter turned around and frowned, looking at the smoking towel in his hands. There was ash smeared on his face. "Oh."

"Here," Edmund said impatiently as walked over to him and seized the rag. He dumped it in the full sink then splurged it onto the blaze. "Can we eat _now_?"

"In a second," Peter said, sounding exhausted. Indeed, he and Susan had stayed up half the night watching their younger siblings sleep and trying to think of ways to earn money for the family without having jobs. As he spoke Susan rubbed her eyes, willing them to stay open, and said, "Edmund, how long exactly did you cook this bacon?"

"Long enough," snapped her younger brother. "It looks fine."

"It looks like something you'd dig out of a fireplace," Lucy said, nonetheless helping herself to several slices. "And the toast looks dead."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Edmund said indignantly. "Of course it looks dead. It _is_ dead. It wasn't exactly up and walking at one point."

"Let's eat," Susan said brightly as the stove fire finally died under the pressure of the newly wet rag. "Thank you for making breakfast for us, Ed."

"No problem," said Edmund happily and they all sat down.

"What happened last night?" Lucy asked after a moment's pause as everyone filled their plates. "I heard a door slamming and Peter was talking to somebody."

"I must have been asleep," Edmund said. "What are you on about, Lu?"

"I heard Peter talking to someone," Lucy insisted. "What was going on?"

Peter and Susan glanced at each other.

"Byron stopped by," Susan said, both informing her siblings of what had occurred and also giving Peter permission to give his thoughts about the real reason he had came by their house. To her surprise, Peter only said, "Yeah, he was looking for Mum. Wanted money or something."

"Well, he's a—" Edmund started ranting about Byron, calling him names Susan sternly criticized him for using. She expected Peter to join in but her elder brother sat quietly and ate his toast, nodding at Edmund's speech here and there but saying nothing. When Edmund had calmed down Lucy asked, "Do we have enough money to pay him? Mr. Byron seems like he's charging Mum too much."

"I think he's cheating her," Edmund said at once but Peter shook his head.

"Byron would cheat Mum, but I don't think that's the problem," he said, sipping his tea.

"So what's the problem?" Lucy asked, innocent eyes darting around the table, looking at her siblings. The three of them exchanged weary glances before Susan answered, "We have no money."

There was silence. Lucy looked down to her plate. Edmund cleared his throat and hastily took another piece of bacon from the platter. Peter put his chin on his hands and gazed at his mug. Susan sighed bitterly.

"Su?" Peter asked after a while.

"Yes, Peter."

"Would you feel safe and be able to take care of things if I were to leave for half the day?"

"Of course," said Susan, confused.

"Would you be able to do that every day?"

There was a moment's pause before Susan caught on. "Peter, _no_."

"I can't think of any other way that any of us are going to earn money without having a job," Peter snapped. "It sounds like we're getting desperate. And we've only been living here for two or three days!"

"Peter—"

"And Mum doesn't need to know."

"She told you not to!"

"I'll only be gone for half the day! I'll take a job where I'm only needed half as much time—"

"And bring home half as much money," Lucy put in.

"Better then none, isn't it?" Peter asked, annoyed. "How else will we get money?"

Edmund opened his mouth, blushed, then shut it again rapidly. Everyone looked at him.

"What, Ed?" said Peter tiredly.

"Nothing," Edmund said hurriedly, blushing even more and stuffing a piece of toast in his mouth. "I mean, no…it's not even an option—"

"Do you have an idea?" Susan asked.

"Come on, Ed, spit it out," said Peter.

"I was just going to say…but it's not like you'd do it—"

"What is it?" said Lucy impatiently.

"Well, there's…" Edmund muttered, "…there's always…prostitution…."

"Edmund!" both Susan and Peter shouted at the same time.

"I can't believe you'd say that!" Susan cried indignantly, blushing worse then Edmund. "We're not _that_ desperate!"

"What's prostitution?" asked Lucy.

"I told you it wasn't an option!" Edmund said angrily, looking at Susan with hurt eyes. "I've just seen women out on the streets…and…and it just crossed my mind…"

"My sisters are NOT going to be selling themselves while I'm alive," snarled Peter.

"What are you talking about?" Lucy asked. "What do you mean, Susan and me selling ourselves?"

There was another pause before Susan said, "Well done, Ed."

"Who's going to educate Lu on _this_ matter?" Peter asked, looking at Edmund pointedly.

"Well, you asked me when I didn't want to say anything," Edmund shrugged. "Listen, I'm sorry, Su. I didn't mean it that way."

"I know, Edmund," Susan said gently.

"But you know, you do have a point, Ed," said Peter suddenly. "That is one more reason why I need to get a job."

"Peter—" Susan started again but Peter cut her off.

"Don't try and argue with me, Su. I've made up my mind. Edmund, do you think you can take care of the girls while I'm gone?"

"Duh," Edmund said, grinning with pride.

"Listen," Peter said as Susan opened her mouth again. "None of you can tell Mum. This has to be done. I know she'll never let me but she's going to kill herself trying to buy food and clothes and pay for this shack on her own."

"I won't say," Edmund said.

"Neither will I," Lucy promised, "but what's pr—"

"Su, trust me," Peter said pleadingly, making Lucy stop short. "Okay?"

Susan was quiet for a few moments, then she softly said, "Okay."

Peter smiled and took another sip of tea. "So I'll start looking for work today."

For another minute or two it was silent as they finished their breakfast, then Lucy asked again, "What's prostitution?"

The elder three shifted in their seats uncomfortably and when Susan looked up from her plate she saw her brothers both looking at her with begging eyes.

"Fine, I'll tell her," she sighed. She pushed back her chair and said, "Come on, Lu."

"What are we doing?" her little sister asked.

"Having girl talk," she answered and behind her, Peter and Edmund breathed sighs of relief.

That night when dinner was being dished up as usual, the four siblings were all surprised when their front door opened and their mother walked in, home three hours earlier then usual.

"Mum!" squeaked Lucy and bolted over to her. Helen, instead of shaking her shoulder in a one-armed hug as usual, dropped her things on the couch and wrapped her arms around her, holding her tightly.

"Hello, sweetheart!" she said, and her voice didn't sound so tired. "How are you?"

"I'm good now you're here," Lucy said at once, beaming and leaning into Mrs. Pevensie contentedly. Helen put a hand on her shoulder and greeted the others with a warm smile.

"What are you doing here so early, Mum?" Peter asked curiously as Edmund put plates on the table. "I mean, we're happy you're here…but I thought you had to work until a quarter after nine."

"I talked to my boss," their mother said simply. "He agreed to let me have two days a week when I could come home early to spend time with my family." She went around the tiny kitchen and hugged the rest of them happily. "It's been crazy during the last few days, and I haven't gotten too much time to be with you four. How are you doing in our new house? Are you holding up okay?"

Dinner was the happiest it had been in a long time. Helen, though she still looked weary, didn't seem as exhausted as she usually was when she came home, and gladly talked with all of them like they used to in their old, nicer home. Susan gazed at her mother the entire time, hardly saying a word, captivated by the change in her mother after weeks and weeks of mourning. She had handled Byron with the issue of money and despite whatever unhappiness she was feeling, worked hard every single day to bring them home things they needed. She did this all without one word of complaint.

Susan watched her mother laugh at something Lucy had said; saw her cheeks rise and her lips angle themselves into a beautiful smile; her eyes crinkled into depths of joy and contentment. The candlelight flickered off her wavy black hair that fell a little past her shoulders – Susan's own hair, in fact. Lucy had the darkish chestnut, Peter had always been somewhat light haired like their father, and Edmund had gotten the color of Helen's hair, but Susan had inherited the midnight-black, naturally wavy locks of her mother. She saw her mother being so brave for them all and wondered if she was like her in any other ways other then having her hair.

_But I was like her at one point_, she realized, _in Narnia, when I was Queen Susan…_

"Susan, dear, are you okay?" her mother was saying.

Susan blinked and looked around. Her siblings were looking at her.

"Nothing," she said, then elaborated, "I mean, yes, I'm fine. Just a little tired."

Helen got up from her chair and walked over to her. She put a cool hand on her forehead and pushed back her hair.

"You feel a little warm," Mrs. Pevensie said, frowning a little.

"Probably just the summer heat," Susan said with a forced laugh.

Her mother fingered her hair for a moment as Peter and Lucy started to clear the table and Edmund carried the extra food over to store. Susan got up to help, but her mother caught her hand with hers.

"Susan," she breathed, gazing at her palms in surprise, "look at your hands."

Susan looked at them. Indeed, they were red and roughly calloused from the few days of work she had experienced in the new house. A slip of a knife that day before lunch had earned her a small cut on her left thumb.

"They're just not used to a lot of work," Susan said, then instantly regretted that she had said it, but Helen's eyes filled with concern.

"My poor Su," she said lovingly. "You've been working so hard lately. You all have."

"So have you," Peter put in without a moment's hesitation. "You make the money, we run the home."

"Lucy, let me see your hands," Mrs. Pevensie said quietly, ignoring Peter. Lucy held out her tiny palms and Helen examined them. "Your hands are like your sister's," she murmured. "I'm ashamed my girls have to have hands so rough because they must work so hard…"

"We would feel horrid if you were the only one working," Susan insisted and Lucy nodded, backing her up.

"In a couple months when we have more savings we won't have to work so hard, Mum," supplied Peter hopefully. "And you could have less hours and be at home more."

"And we'd have a nicer home then this," Edmund said, gesturing around the shack. "And you wouldn't have to deal with that pig Byron…"

Mrs. Pevensie smiled. "Dream with all your hearts, children, because someday, I promise you, things will be different. Things are harder right now because I need to pay a higher mortgage these first three months, and after six months or so I'll have a proper savings account."

"Could we have milk once a day?" Lucy asked.

"Three times a day, as far as I'm concerned," said Helen, smiling.

"And could Peter and I have our own room?" Edmund asked.

Mrs. Pevensie laughed. "What, you don't like your sisters?" she asked teasingly.

"Of course I do," Edmund said impatiently. "But it's weird sharing a room with them."

"Ouch," Susan said, faking her surprise.

"We're not good enough for him," Lucy snickered.

"I never said that!" Edmund protested but Peter talked over him.

"I bet that when we're living in a mansion and we all have separate rooms a million miles away from each other he'll beg you to come and stay with him," he said, chuckling.

"Yeah, you're stuck with them for life, kiddo," Mrs. Pevensie smiled, leaning against the counter. "And you love it."

"Yeah, right," Edmund snorted, and Lucy and Susan stepped forward and hugged him tightly. Peter laughed and joined in.

"No!" Edmund shouted, trying not to grin. Mrs. Pevensie laughed and shook her head with amusement as the siblings fought each other in one of their random, many-armed hugs, enjoying how familiar things seemed to be once again.

That night Susan dreamed that she was dancing in the Great Hall of Cair Paraval with a lord who was light on his feet and who held her with pride as they waltzed around many dancing couples. He kept on coming back to her and asking her for more dances and every time Susan smiled and obeyed his wishes.

Then everything became a whirl of color as the music ended suddenly and the lord would not let her go. Susan tried to pull away but he held her tightly and smiled into her face, fingering the bottom of her neck with his thumb. She felt her heart seize up as she started telling him to release her but he just held on tighter and laughed…then his face turned into the greasy, sneering profile of Byron, and Susan woke with a start, the darkness of hers and her sibling's room erupting before her and her own terrified breathing filling her ears.

"Su?" came Edmund's sleepy voice. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," whispered Susan, and as her eyes closed and she drifted off to sleep again, she wondered if whether or not that was her answer for everything.

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**Please give me your thoughts! I appreciate every review I get!  
Thanks for reading this far :)**


	7. Chapter 6: The News

**Hey, everybody! Here's Chapter 6. Hope you all enjoy and that you don't get confused! (If you do, let me know in a review lol)**

**Thank you so much again to EVERYONE who is reviewing my story! You guys are what make me keep writing!**

**P.S. The book _The Matchlock Gun_ by Walter D. Edmonds**** is used as a story "prop". I do not own that book (or any of C.S. Lewis's amazing writing, for that matter).**

**Enjoy!  
**

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Within the next few days Peter was able to find work at an old farmhouse three miles away from their little shack, provided by a man called Henry Gusler. He was going to care for the two horses that were no longer used in the fields because tractors had replaced them. "He wants me to come to the farm around half past eight in the morning," Peter explained. "And I'll stay until two o'clock."

"What will you do?" Lucy asked.

"He wants me to feed and exercise them," said Peter. "He said that for the first week if I'm good with them I'll use them in one of the fields for twice the pay."

"I suppose that's good," Susan said, a little uncertain.

"Do you get food every day?" Edmund questioned.

"No, unless I want to cut my salary," said Peter causally. "I can just take some bread from here."

"Some lunch," Edmund muttered.

"Does Gusler seem nice?" asked Susan.

"He seems generous enough," Peter said, a new tone in his voice that Susan couldn't quite put her finger on. "I told him how old I was and he wanted me to get lost, but I explained our situation and he gave in. If I stay out of his way and if I'm polite, we'll get along pretty well."

"I don't like this," said Susan, biting her lip.

"I know you don't," Peter said quietly, looking at her with understanding eyes. "But this has to be done."

The next day after their mother was long gone, Peter hugged them all goodbye, wrapped some pieces of bread and a pear in some paper, then walked out the door for a three mile walk to the farmhouse. Lucy cried as Peter trotted contentedly down the road and Edmund sighed heavily once he had disappeared from sight.

"I hope he knows what he's doing," he remarked as they all started at the spot where he had disappeared.

Susan nodded and looked around. Some of the people who lived in the shacks next to theirs were awake and doing laundry outside. A group of men about Peter's age was eyeing her suggestively, so she quickly urged her siblings inside and locked the door securely.

"Okay," she said brightly once she had closed the curtains and made sure the windows were padlocked. "We should get some of our schoolwork done today, so when school starts we'll have a good start. Lucy, sweetheart, don't cry. Peter will be back soon."

"It isn't the same when he's not here," Lucy whimpered as Susan hugged her close. "I like it when we're all together."

"I do, too, Lucy," Edmund said. "But remember in Narnia when we had to split up all the time? I would be kicking the butts of the attackers on the borders and you and Su would be at Cair Paraval running the country and everything and Peter would be signing treaties up north…"

"But then we would all be together again, right?" Susan asked. "After the days ended or weeks or however long it was, it all came down to the four of us again, didn't it?"

"Yeah," Lucy said quietly. "Those nights we sometimes sat up all night talking."

"Those days were fun, weren't they?" Susan said, wiping a tear away with her thumb.

"Yeah," Lucy murmured. "You came and sung me lullabies when I couldn't sleep."

"You still do," Edmund pointed out.

Susan smiled and hugged her sister. "_Within the contents of your soul there lies a secret song…a song that falls and grows at times as your life lives on_…"

Lucy grinned back and closed her eyes as Susan sang the rest of the song. Edmund stood shock still and listened intently to their old lullaby.

"_Whether it is high or low, loud or soft or sweet…the accuracy of your sweet melody means the most to me…Sing to all with honesty, sing for those who don't know truth…sing with faith and don't lose heart; sing the song that lives in you._"

When Peter came home Lucy sprang from the couch where she had been reading with Edmund and jumped into his arms. "You're here!" she said enthusiastically. "How was work? Was it hard? Did you eat enough? Susan made us turkey sandwiches for lunch; there are some left over if you want. Was Gusler nice to you? How—"

"Easy, Lu, I haven't been gone forever!" Peter said irritably, though he looked rather pleased she had missed him. "Work was fine. It wasn't hard. Yes, I ate enough, and I would love a turkey sandwich."

"And was—"

"Gusler was nice to me," Peter interrupted. He hugged Lucy affectionately. "What did you do all day?"

"Edmund read some of _The Matchlock Gun_ to me," Lucy said happily.

"Ed, should she be reading that?" Peter asked sharply, and Edmund shrugged.

"It's not that violent," he said sheepishly.

Susan eyed her elder brother carefully. Was it just her, or was there a different look in Peter's eyes that wasn't there before?

"So you think you'll make it okay there?" she asked, trying to put some cheerfulness in her tone. "At the farm, I mean."

"Of course," Peter said brightly. He barely even glanced at her. "Lu, can you show me where those sandwiches are?"

Lucy immediately put one on a plate as Peter told them about what he had to do to care for the horses at the farm. Edmund made fun of him a great deal when Peter said that one of the horses had peed on his shoes within the first ten minutes and Lucy laughed when Peter half-heartedly described his boss: a fat, wheezy man in the prime of his life but still looked rather old.

"He was still clean, though," Peter said as he ate his sandwich. "Just obese. And he has black hair that's already graying."

"Does he like being at the farm?" Edmund asked. "Or is he just one of those wannabe merchants?"

"No, he likes his job." Peter took a sip of water. "Listen, I'm kind of tired. Would you mind if I went and rested so when Mum gets home she won't suspect anything?"

Susan's eyes narrowed at this, but her younger siblings immediately told him that would be fine, and went back to the couch to continue reading. Peter put his plate in the sink.

"So everything went okay here?" he asked Susan in a low voice, so Edmund and Lucy would not overhear.

"Of course," Susan answered back, and Peter smiled and walked into their room, shutting the door lightly behind him.

Edmund went back to describing words to Lucy from the book, and Susan gazed at the tiny countertop, brain malfunctioning on her. She sighed and put a hand to her forehead. Something didn't quite feel right in her mind.

Days flew by. Helen didn't suspect anything, other then the fact that Peter was always tired.

"Honey, do you get enough sleep at night?" she asked on one of the two days a week she was allowed to come home for dinner. "You haven't been yourself lately."

"I'm okay, Mum," Peter said with a convincing smile. "Really. Probably just getting stressed about school."

Susan didn't get it; her brother was different, somehow. She didn't understand what could possibly be wrong.

When she asked him if he was holding up okay at work he laughed at her. "It's barely anything for me to do," Peter said, though that day he had told them he was now working in the fields with the horses. "Come on, Su, I get my first paycheck in a week! Won't it be great to bring that home?"

"What are you going to tell Mum, you found the money in the gutter?" Susan asked darkly.

"No, she's not going to find out I have it," Peter told her. "I'm going to go to the store and buy food then when she comes home it'll look like we just used the money she leaves us under the mattresses."

"Yeah, that'll work."

"Then when a couple of months to a year go by we'll have some savings enough to get out of this neighborhood," Peter went on, ignoring her. "Mum will be so happy she won't care whether or not I have a job."

"You're not very smart, Peter."

"At least I know when to disobey rules," he shot back.

Constantly Susan caught Peter off guard. He was always smiling around them, convincing Edmund and Lucy things were fine, but sometimes Susan saw him staring at nothing in particular, a fixed frown on his face and an odd look in his eyes. When she called his name he sprang to attention like a soldier, acting normal again, but Susan didn't buy it.

Finally one day she could handle it no more. Convinced Lucy and Edmund were distracted, Susan quietly walked over to her room where Peter claimed to be resting and knocked on the door.

"Come in," called Peter's voice.

Susan opened the door and silently walked in. The lantern was out so she lit it, shutting the door gently. Peter was under the covers so she couldn't see him.

"Who is that?" he asked, sounding tired. "Why's the light on?"

When Susan made no reply, he threw back the blankets in what Susan could tell was feigned irritation.

She glared at him. Peter blinked, waiting for her to speak. "What?" he asked.

"How stupid do you think I am?" Susan shot out.

Peter's eyebrows furrowed and his frown sunk in deeper. "Excuse me?"

"How _stupid_," Susan said clearly and slowly, "do you _think_ I _am_?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Peter said, pulling the covers back over him. "I'm trying to sleep."

"Bullshit," Susan snarled. Peter pushed off his blankets again in shock.

"What?" he breathed. He had probably never heard her use that tone before.

"You're hiding something from us, Peter," snapped Susan. "Edmund and Lucy might have missed it but I know you too well. And I am not leaving this room until you bloody tell me what you're keeping from us."

Peter gazed at her in horror.

"I'll tell Mum you got a job if you don't tell me," she hissed. "Don't think I won't."

"Susan," Peter began weakly, "I…I don't want you to know."

"Why the hell not?"

"Will you trust me?" Peter begged her. "I—"

"I won't tell anyone else, I swear," Susan said over him. "But if you don't tell me I'm telling Mum you disobeyed her."

"You're acting like you're two," Peter said angrily.

"Do you trust me," Susan said stubbornly, "or not?"

Peter was silent for a long time. He stared at his hands and Susan leaned against the wall, looking at him, waiting.

Finally he looked up. "Where are Ed and Lu?" he asked.

"In the other room. They won't hear us. And I locked the door, so they won't come in."

Peter sighed deeply. "Su…you can't tell them."

"I won't. I promise."

Peter swallowed and sat up on his bed. The light flickered on his face.

"Sit down," he said at last.

Susan sat down on her bed, not taking her eyes off her brother.

"When I went to work that first day," Peter said, slowly and not looking at her, "Gusler showed me what to do and left. But he came back to talk to me after a while."

Susan watched him breathlessly.

"He asked me about where I lived, our family, just basic information," Peter went on. "I said I lived with my mum and brother and sisters and that our dad had been killed in the war. He already knew I was working there because Mum doesn't bring home enough money. But after a couple days he learned that we used to live up towards London and he…he asked me if I heard about that one woman…our neighbor whose house was burnt down."

Susan tensed on her bed.

"Do you remember that night?" he asked her.

"Yes," Susan answered shakily.

"He knew what had caused the fire," Peter said. "Another man did it. The man threw a cigar that was still lit at the bushes around the house, hoping to make it seem like an accident."

"How does Gusler know what really happened?" Susan asked suspiciously.

"The man was his brother-in-law," said Peter miserably. "He told him what he was going to do. And Gusler said that his brother-in-law burned down the house so he could buy the land for a cheaper price to build a house so he could rent it out to people, for money. And apparently that's exactly what he's doing."

"But why doesn't Gusler _tell_ somebody?" questioned Susan angrily. "What sort of man lives with a secret like that?"

"His brother-in-law didn't want to kill the woman, our old neighbor," Peter answered with a sigh. "And Gusler thinks highly of him…I don't think he wants to get him into trouble."

Susan was silent.

"I've been there for like two weeks and I want to bloody quit," Peter muttered.

"I want you to, too," Susan said at once. "I mean, a man who's related to someone as dangerous could—"

"Susan," Peter said suddenly, looking at her.

"What?" she said in alarm, because there was despair in her brother's eyes.

"His brother-in-law wanted to burn down our house, too," he said softly.

Susan was not as surprised as she should have been. "Is he still planning to?"

"No."

"Why did he want our house, too?"

"He didn't want our house, Su," Peter said quietly. "He wanted _us_."

"What?"

Peter sighed and shifted on his bed. "Gusler's brother-in-law wanted us to move out so he could…he could…"

"I don't get what you're saying, Peter," Susan said, alarmed.

"Oh, Susan…" Peter said, and suddenly there were tears in his eyes.

"What are you on about?" Susan asked, utter doubt in her mind. "I don't understand."

"He wants to…" Peter started but he closed his mouth, shaking his head.

"I don't get it!" Susan cried. Peter covered his face with his hand.

"Peter, what's wrong?!" said Susan, frightened. She jumped up and sat beside him. "Tell me!"

"Susan," Peter said, looking at her with glittering eyes. His voice dropped down to a whisper. "Gusler's brother-in-law is Byron."

Shock spread through Susan like a poison. Within seconds her body felt numb.

"What?" she gasped.

"Gusler said…that Byron knew since our dad was dead we'd be living on a fixed income," Peter said in the same agonized whisper. "He took the chance to go to Mum and offer us this…this _dung__shed_…"

"Why _us_?" Susan nearly shouted. Peter's eyes widened and he hurriedly put a finger to his lips, hissing, "Shh!"

Susan listened for silence in the other room, but Edmund and Lucy were still talking.

"Gusler asked me where I lived," Peter said miserably. "When I told him that I used to live in a house near our neighbor who was killed, he got curious. He told me all this once he knew what house I had lived in."

"Byron killed our neighbor," Susan breathed.

"Yes," Peter sighed.

Susan was dead silent for a few moments, gazing at the lamp. Peter looked at her in concern.

"Why us?" Susan asked again after a while, more quietly.

Peter bit his lip and looked away.

"You are _not_ hiding anything else from me—" Susan started but Peter stopped her.

"That's all I heard, Su, I swear," he said quickly. "But I think I know why Byron wanted us on his property."

"Why?" questioned Susan. Peter sighed heavily and put his head in his hand again.

"Peter…" Susan said warningly.

"I promised you I wouldn't mention it again, didn't I?"

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**I know this is sort of confusing, and I'll try to update soon. :) Please review!**


	8. Chapter 7: Further Doubt

**First off, sorry for the long update!!!!!!!!! I had really bad writers block plus a ton of schoolwork……**

**Second off……..Enjoy!!! Thank you so so so so so so much to all who are reviewing! I _live_ for my reviews! (Well, this story does lol)

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It took Susan a second or two to catch on with her brother. During that time Peter looked away and quietly stared at the floor. Susan studied him and wondered what he meant…then suddenly it hit her.

"You are paranoid."

Peter's head whipped around and he eyed her in irritation. "I am not _paranoid_, Su, I am _protective_."

"You honestly think that Byron would _burn_ down our house," Susan said incredulously, "put our _lives_ in danger, offer Mum an awful house, and make it so she had no other choice but to live here just so he could get his hands on _me_?!"

"Yes."

Susan burst out laughing. Peter glared at her.

"Su, stop," he snapped. "Ed and Lucy will hear."

Susan couldn't. She put her hand over her mouth to muffle the sound but the idea was so ridiculous it would have been impossible to stop.

"Susan, it's not funny!" Peter hissed. "This is bad. Really bad."

"Peter…" Susan gasped, covering her eyes with amusement. "I knew you were getting obsessed when Byron only _looked_ at me…but this—"

"He did not _look_ at you!" Peter shouted as loud as a normal tone would allow, "he was _staring_ at what he thought was going to be his property!"

Susan snorted. "_Property_…?"

"Susan, I mean it," Peter said angrily. "Remember Rabadash? Remember how obsessed he was as to wage _war_ on Narnia so he could try to win you?"

Susan thought about that time and her smile faded. "Yes."

"Don't you think the same thing could happen with Byron?"

Susan rolled her eyes, pushing her memories back into her head. "No, Peter, I don't. There's already a war going on, in case you haven't noticed."

Peter glared at her. "Of course he's not going to try and win you in a war. Susan; he could come stalking us at night, trying to find out how to get in and kidnap you or—"

Susan started laughing again. She wiped off tears of profound amusement from her cheeks.

Peter, obviously fed up, let out a noise between a sigh and a snarl. Before Susan could react he seized her by the shoulders and shook her roughly. "What is funny about this?" he yelled in her face, his tone deadly. Susan's mirth died away instantly, replaced by sudden fear.

"Byron is a dangerous man," Peter said hotly, "and you're _laughing_ about it!" Susan looked at him with frightened eyes. "He came to our door the other night hoping to find you because…" he trailed off, apparently not about to say the obvious. "Mum is too naïve to realize this but I _know_," he shook her again, "it's true."

Susan didn't move.

"Tomorrow I am going back to Gusler and asking him for more details," Peter went on, not taking his eyes off hers, "and if what I'm thinking is true, I'm quitting and you _better_ believe that I will not let you out of my sight."

"So you would have gone through all that trouble to just quit," Susan said quietly.

"You are worth more to me then any job," Peter said, eyes softening. "Please take this seriously, Su."

Susan looked away from her brother, suddenly taking in her situation in a whole different perspective.

"Su?" snapped Peter, shaking her again. "Don't make me—"

"I'll take this seriously," Susan stammered, looking at him again. "I just…didn't think people could be so…so…"

"Obsessed?" Peter asked softly and Susan nodded. "Byron won't touch you if someone is with you," he soothed her. "I'm just saying…I think something's up and I am asking you to be careful."

"I will be," Susan promised. Peter nodded, satisfied, and let go of her.

A few seconds of silence passed. Only then did they realize that in the other room, Edmund and Lucy had stopped talking.

"Shit," mouthed Peter. He and Susan scrambled to their feet and ran toward the door, banging it open.

Their siblings were standing inches away from them, dead silent and obviously listening.

"What did Byron do?" Edmund demanded and at the same time Lucy asked, "Why does Su have to be careful?"

Peter gave Susan a look that faked defeat. "Okay, okay…you two deserve to know. My boss told me that…well, he…he threatened to fire me."

"_Fire_ you?" Edmund asked suspiciously. Susan nodded her head sadly.

"What," Lucy said, arms crossed, "does that have to do with Su—?"

"You know, he could come knocking at our door like Byron did, right?" Peter said carefully. "To inspect our house or something…"

"Why?"

"I don't know," snapped Peter. "But I guess Gusler's…not happy with the way I work, I guess…."

"Weren't you just saying that Gusler found someone else he liked better then you?" Susan suggested.

"That's right," said Peter, sighing heavily. "I just don't know what to do…"

Throughout the time Lucy and Edmund offered him suggestions Susan stood there and wondered how her younger siblings could believe Peter's lie. If she had been in their shoes she would have seen past the story in seconds and flying on to the truth. But Peter did such a good job of hiding what was real Susan suddenly knew that unless they heard otherwise, her younger siblings weren't going to find out.

That night once Edmund and Lucy were in bed she and Peter did their usual routine of making sure the door and the windows were locked and the house was clean and food was ready for their mother in case she was hungry when she got home. Susan stood quietly at the door and stared at the woodwork, listening to the screaming of the woman who lived across the street from them who was beaten by her husband on a nightly basis.

Peter came and stood by her, listening, too. The silence was empty but full of a shared, linked sympathy between them for whoever had to put up with such treatment. For a long while they stood there, then finally Peter reached for the door handle to make doubly sure it was secured.

"Don't tell them," he said suddenly. "Don't tell anyone." Though it had been hours since their conversation Susan knew what he meant. She and Peter had always understood each other, from the days when they were toddlers to the years they had spent as King and Queen in Narnia. She nodded wordlessly.

This was heavily rewarded by the first true smile Susan had seen from Peter in a long time. He hugged her gratefully and kissed her forehead, and they sat on the couch in their continued silence until their mother came home.

When Peter got back the next day he could give no sign of what he had heard from Gusler until nighttime when their siblings and their mother were asleep. He gently woke Susan up and they crept out to the kitchen as quietly as they could so their siblings would not hear them if they woke.

"So Gusler is a fat liar," he told her in a whisper, a smile breaking over his face. "Today for about half the time he was talking I didn't understand him, but it seems to me like Byron would have burned down any house that he could buy and rent a home on. And he wanted families with low income."

"And you're smiling about this," Susan said, nonetheless grinning, too.

"But don't you think that he must be some sort of stalker?" said Peter, face suddenly serious. "Byron, I mean. How else would he know that woman lived alone?"

"You said Gusler said Byron didn't want to kill our neighbor—" Susan started but Peter shook his head.

"I don't believe him," he said. "In fact, I bet Gusler had a hand in the murder, too."

Susan sighed.

"You want me to quit, don't you?" Peter asked her warily.

"Since the day you were hired," Susan replied.

"Where am I going to get another job?" said Peter. "I've looked _everywhere_, Su. I—"

"I don't want you to have a job," Susan hissed, and they both held their breath for a second to listen for their mother's light snoring. When they heard it, she went on, "I just…I feel safer when you're here with us, Peter."

Her brother blinked. "Why would I make you safer?"

"Please," Susan said, rolling her eyes.

"Honestly!" Peter said pleadingly. "Why don't you feel safe? Do people come knocking? What—?"

Susan decided not to waste her time with words. She seized his wrist and dragged him over to the window then pulled back the curtains. She nodded toward the outdoors. "There. Look. I'm sure there's something out there for you to see."

Peter leaned in and looked out into the street lit only by a few lanterns. The street was eerie and full of shadows.

To the left of them four or five masses of darkness were moving around…after their eyes had focused a little bit they looked more like men…men that looked like they belonged in a gang. They were shoving each other around, whether playfully or not, they couldn't tell. They were often turning around to gawk to the right. When Susan and Peter looked toward where the men were looking after a few minutes, they saw two whores, not much older then Susan, who were flexing and seducing the men closer, standing at the end of the street. Peter snorted with disgust.

"And Edmund suggested prostitution," he murmured.

"Shhh," Susan hissed. "You know he didn't mean it…"

Peter muttered something she didn't make out then he fell silent.

As they watched, the men started pushing harder and shouting louder, so that the sound was reached to a muffled yell Peter and Susan could hear from inside. Now it seemed very clear that they were fighting. Two of the men were suddenly punching one another as the others continued to shout. The prostitutes cooed and laughed down the road, obviously pleased that the men were fighting over them.

"Dear Aslan," Peter whispered as one of the two men fighting pulled out a gun from inside his coat. The men stopped shouting instantly. Susan's breath caught in her throat. They were used to gangs and violence during the night but seeing it always made it more real, more frightening.

The man with the gun nodded to one of his comrades and the two of them headed down the street, to where the whores were waiting. They giggled and threw back their heads, shaking their hair and already reaching for their money. The man put his gun away.

"Those girls offer themselves up," Peter said quietly, gazing transfixed at the scene. "Just like that…it disturbs me."

"I know," Susan said softly. Somehow she felt that her brother had gotten the wrong message as to why he should stay home. "Peter…there are more men out there who would point guns to their friends' heads for…for something like that. They don't come knocking nor do they bother us but…but when you're here even if they were to come I'd feel safer."

Peter closed the curtains. "I know what you mean."

Susan was quiet for a moment, then she lifted the curtain again and looked out again, searching for the men and their whores. They were gone.

Somewhere inside of her she felt a deep pang for those two girls. In Narnia it had been first on her priority list to stop any form of prostitution in every land she could and it had been done. But here she had no control, no money to give desperate girls whose fathers had probably been killed in the war, too, and whose families probably had no money left to buy food with. She wondered what it would be like, to be so desperate and be faced with such a choice….

"Don't get ideas, Su," Peter told her, voice still a whisper but still commanding.

"I'm not," Susan answered back as she let the curtains flutter back to their normal position.

They were quiet for a short time, and they heard the quiet breathing of their mother and siblings in the other rooms. Finally Peter took a deep breath.

"So what do you want me to do?"

Susan blinked. "What?"

"Do you want me to quit, or to stay, or what?"

Susan stood silently and pondered this. "I don't know, Peter."

"You tell me what to do," Peter said, looking down at his hands. "I don't like leaving you here but we need money. Mum's going to wear herself out trying to earn enough for us to live by but there are gangs outside our door ready to hurt you."

"They wouldn't point a gun at me if I didn't bother them," Susan said.

"What did all those chaps just fight each other for?" Peter said sharply.

Susan took this in, then said quietly, "Oh."

Another period of silence passed between them, then Susan said suddenly, "I want you to stay at your job."

Peter eyed her. "You do?"

"If you feel like you need to stay, then you need to stay," said Susan softly. "Don't worry about us. We keep our door locked and the windows shut. I…I just don't like it when you're away from us, Peter, especially working for a man like Gusler. But you have to cope with things just like I do."

Peter sighed and asked, "Are you sure?"

"Yes," Susan said firmly. Peter gave her a look that plainly said, _well,_ _if you think it's best…_Susan smiled half-heartedly.

Peter looked down at the ground. When he looked back up, Susan was startled to see his eyes had filled with tears.

"I wish Dad were here," he said quietly. "Then we wouldn't be living in this mess in the first place…."

Silently Susan reached for him, and he crumpled into her arms almost instantly. She hugged him close to her and tried to give him some small comfort, as he had done for her so many times before. No words were needed or used. There were things in life that no words could cover; anguish, fear, and helplessness were just a few. Susan could only hope that the warmth and love of another person who cared could help soak up a huge burden...and a responsibility.

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**So the ending really sucks but the rest of the chapter was done and I needed to update. :)**

**I _promise_ the next chapter will be more exciting!!!!! Thanks to those of you who are patiently putting up with this story! lol**

**If you are confused..._say so_!!! I respond to all my reviewers and I'll try to make this story more easy on the mind :)**


	9. Chapter 8: The Fight

**Wow! It's been almost a month since I've updated. I had the biggest writer's block I've had in a long time so I really had no idea what to write until a few days ago. So first off I have to say that I'm sorry about the slow pace that this story is going at; I'm afraid that you all will have to wait until the next chapter to see some real action going on here :)**

**Second of all: thank you so so so so much for my reviewers! You guys have really encouraged me more then you know; you guys are awesome!**

**Here's a very angsty chapter! (Don't say I didn't warn you :) )**

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Summer was drawing to an end. The heat was dying slowly and Mrs. Pevensie started putting aside money to buy the four of them winter clothing and school supplies—for school time was approaching rapidly. After much begging and pleading, Helen started letting Susan and Lucy help her with the clothing orders she received; their mother would bring home shirts, dresses, trousers, jackets, and underclothing that needed to be sewed and while she was at work the next day, the girls sat on the couch and stitched as many articles of clothing as they could for their mother to pick up on her break. She got paid more, for the amount of orders she filled were increased, and the results started to show about two weeks before school opened.

"_Paint_?" Edmund said in happy alarm as Helen came home one day holding two cans of it as well as four or five brushes. "We're going to paint the walls?"

"I think this cream color would look much nicer on the wood walls then that dirt," Mrs. Pevensie, beaming at Lucy's joyful expression. "You four will have to do that tomorrow…I brought home ham tonight…I'm getting a little tired of chicken, to tell you the truth."

Peter's earnings were also adding up. He often used some of it to buy food, but there was still a rather large wad of money that he showed them, hidden under his and Edmund's mattress, a wad big enough, he told them, to pay a house mortgage.

"It's not a lot, but if we keep saving, we'll be out of this place in no time," he told them happily. "Maybe even by Christmas."

Once the walls were painted the Pevensie siblings only had one week to go until they had to leave on separate trains and head off to boarding school. Since it was too dangerous to go outside, they spent their days on the couches, Edmund working hard on his essay he had put off until the last week of summer, Susan and Lucy sewing their mother's orders, and—when he was home—Peter practicing ways to tell Mrs. Pevensie that he had gotten a job long ago, deliberately disobeying her.

"See, Mum, I knew that you were under a lot of stress, and I just really felt helpless not doing anything…no, that sounds like I'm kissing up…

"Or…Mum, you didn't let me do what I had to so I had to disobey you, and I know you're mad but…ah, I can't do that…

"Mum, you're probably really mad at me right now, but Ed and the girls were safe all the times I was gone, and I was only gone half the day, and now we have a lot of money to help save up for a new house, and—"

"Peter, you're rambling again," Susan told him gently.

"Why are you going to tell her _now_, anyway?" asked Edmund.

"Because we're going to be leaving soon for school and I want her to have the money," said Peter reasonably. "She's going to need it, to keep us in there…"

"Great way to tell her," Lucy said, snorting. " 'Hey, Mum, I disobeyed you a long time ago and got a job, just to let you know, but here's some money for you to make up for that.'"

"I'm not going to say that," Peter sighed.

"Peter, tell her the truth," Susan said consolingly as she took out a few stitches from the shirt she was sewing. "Say that you were worried about her and you felt terrible staying home and doing nothing while she worked so hard to earn our food and shelter. She's going to be mad no matter what, Peter, but she'll take it a lot easier once she's seen the logic."

Peter sighed heavily again. "You're right, Su."

"Or you can leave her a note the day we get on the trains to go to school," Edmund suggested. "Then you won't have to say a word and she'd still know."

They were all quiet for a few seconds, then at the same time the four of them shook their heads and said, "Nah."

"You'll find a way, Peter," Lucy said with the same faithful smile she had had for as long as they could remember. "You always do."

That night when Edmund and Lucy were in bed and Susan was considering joining them, Mrs. Pevensie walked through the door, at a quarter to ten. As usual she looked like she had been through the mill—indeed in addition to going to work, she had to pass the gangs and the other dangerous aspects of the streets to get home—but tonight she looked even worse.

"Oh, Peter, Su…you two should really be in bed when I get home," she said, voice all exhaustion. "You don't need to stay up and wait for me."

The two exchanged quick glances of shared expressions: "_That'll happen_," and Peter asked as usual, "How was your day?"

For the first time in a long time their mother did not answer. Instead she walked over to the kitchen and took out a carefully wrapped sandwich from the ice-box. She poured herself a glass of tea and sat down at the table.

"Mum?" Susan asked carefully. She and her brother walked over to Helen and sat down on either side of her.

Mrs. Pevensie took a bite of her sandwich and chewed for a long time. She swallowed then suddenly put a hand to her cheek. "I worried, if you must know. About your boarding schools."

There was silence.

"We still don't have a lot of money."

_We still don't have a lot of money_.

"So we're not going back to school?" Susan asked carefully.

"I never said that." Helen sounded defeated. "I said that I…" she sighed and took another bite of the sandwich.

"Mum?" Peter asked gently.

"You all will be able to go to school," Mrs. Pevensie murmured. "I just need to take on some more hours…"

"NO!" Peter and Susan cried at the same time.

"Mum, you can't be—"

"After all you're doing—"

"_Quiet_!" shouted Mrs. Pevensie. Their bedroom door creaked open as Peter and Susan shut up; it was Edmund.

"What's going on?" he muttered, rubbing sleep out of his eyes.

"Go back to bed, Edmund," Helen cringed. "Everything's okay."

"Doesn't sound like it," Edmund said cheerfully as he plopped himself down next to Peter.

"This is none of your concern," said Helen irritably, glaring at Edmund.

"Not all of us can go to school this year because we don't have enough money," Peter said. "Isn't that right, Mum?"

Mrs. Pevensie looked at Peter with a furious expression on her face. Before she could speak, however, Peter kept talking.

"We're all going to know sooner or later, aren't we?" he said. "Why do you always treat Su and me like we're adults but Ed and Lucy always get left out in the dark?"

"Because you and Susan _are _practically adults," their mother snapped. "Edmund and Lucy don't understand—"

"That's not true!" yelled Edmund. "I understand more then you know!"

"Don't shout at me!" Helen snarled. "This has nothing to do with our current situation!"

"If Su and I are _practically_ _adults_, why don't we stay home and earn money, rather than go to school?" Peter said hotly. "That way you could send two of us rather then all four."

"I did NOT say I couldn't send you all to school!" cried Mrs. Pevensie, eyes blazing. "I said we are still short on money right now—"

"Meaning that not all of us can go to school," Edmund said, catching on and jumping to the conclusion Helen was denying. "So just send Lu and me. If we've got to go to a different school then that's fine. I can take care of Lucy."

"Mum, if we're still short on money Peter and I can just teach ourselves our lessons at home, and the other two can go to one of the boarding schools up in downtown London," Susan said reasonably, trying to talk calmly so her mother would not explode. "That we could still see them every once in a while and it would be cheaper, and maybe Peter and I could get jobs and still—"

"Susan, where are you going to get a job?" Mrs. Pevensie barked. "I'll tell you where. On the streets. The only possible way you could earn money for this family is to sell yourself, and I will be _damned_ if my daughter has to do that just so we can buy a loaf of bread each night so we can live."

"What about sewing shops? Or bakeries? There are tons of places where I can get a job!" Susan said furiously. "It's not like—"

"_Why don't you try putting yourself into my shoes for just one moment, all of you_?" screamed Mrs. Pevensie. "_Do you even realize what it would mean to me to have my own bloody children out in this cruel world trying to earn money that I can't_?!"

"You treat us like little kids!" howled Edmund. "We aren't four years old, Mum! Why can't you let us help you?"

"_I do NOT want my children running around acting like adults as though I can't support this family on my own_—"

"You just said Su and me were adults!" Peter bellowed. "And in case you haven't noticed, you _can't_ support this family on your own! I've been buying food with my own money for weeks now!"

"And where have you been getting money?" Mrs. Pevensie roared. "Stealing it? Begging for it?"

"I got a job!"

The deathly silence that followed brought out the deadliest side of their mother that they had ever seen in their lives. Her face froze and her face went white and she bit her bottom lip so that the skin split and a trickle of blood appeared on her mouth. Edmund and Susan looked at each other in alarm but Peter had to courage to look her straight in the eye.

After an eternity the door to their room opened and Lucy poked her head out.

"Mum?" she asked tentatively. Susan knew that she had heard every word.

Mrs. Pevensie blinked back some of the fire that was roaring in her dark blue eyes. Susan, seeing this as a warning, got up from her chair and silently walked over to Lucy. She looked up at Susan with terrified eyes and she hugged her little body close to hers. Her little sister shivered against her. They both waited for the eruption.

Sure enough, an eternity later, the bomb went off.

"WHERE THE HELL DID YOU GET A BLOODY JOB?" Helen screamed so loudly the roof seemed to shake. Lucy muffled a cry against Susan's shoulder. "WHY DID YOU GET A JOB AFTER I TOLD YOU TO STAY HERE AND TAKE CARE OF YOUR SIBLINGS? HOW DARE YOU EVEN QUESTION MY ABILITY TO BRING HOME MONEY FOR THIS FAMILY?"

She had thrown back her chair and was on her feet. She kept screaming but Peter added his own shouting to the detonation.

"I did it for your own good!" he roared. Susan flinched and Lucy started sobbing. "You don't even understand what it was like for us to watch you come home worked to the point of collapse. And we could only sit here and do nothing! You don't _understand_, Mum! You don't _understand anything_!"

"Stop acting like you're the only one who cares whether we live or die!" Mrs. Pevensie screeched as she started to cry. "You think I like being the only one who makes money in this house? I'm trying to protect you, damn it! You don't realize how hard enough this is for me, without your father here! I don't need you trying to argue with me!"

Tears started sliding down Susan's cheeks at the mention of her dead father; Edmund started blinking back his own. Lucy wailed harder.

"Mum," Peter said, and all of the sudden the volume and the harshness of his voice was gone, "I think you're trying to do too many things. You're worrying about us and you miss Dad, and you're taking on too many hours of work."

Mrs. Pevensie said nothing. She wiped the wetness from her cheeks and glared at her eldest son.

"If you let me help," Peter went on carefully, as though worried that Helen would explode again, "things might be easier. I have some money saved up. It's enough to pay a mortgage for this house."

Their mother sniffed and put a hand to her mouth. Susan stroked Lucy's hair soothingly as her tears dried up. Edmund looked between Peter and Mrs. Pevensie uncertainly.

"Let us help you, Mum," whispered Susan softly, and all eyes turned toward her. "Please."

Their mother looked defeated. She looked down helplessly then after a few minutes of dead silence she spoke.

"Fine," she said in a small voice. "I'll go downtown tomorrow and look at the boarding school for Ed and Lucy. You older two won't go to school this year."

* * *

When the carriage came to their house five days later Edmund and Lucy had their trunks packed and ready. Their mother spoke to the driver for a few minutes as the coachman got down to load the trunks into the cart.

Susan quietly gave Lucy and Edmund paper bags. "In case you get hungry before you get there," she said, mouth trembling. "There are a few sandwiches for you and some fruit."

Her younger siblings nodded silently. Lucy's eyes were big with tears.

"We'll see you in a fortnight," Peter said cheerfully. "Mum said that we could bring you home for a weekend once you two are more involved in your schoolwork."

Lucy started to cry. She tried not to, it was easy to tell, but she had little success in hiding her sorrow. Edmund took her hand and Susan smoothed back her hair.

"Be brave, Queen Lucy the Valiant," Peter said softly. "Aslan will be with you."

Her mouth crept upwards in a small smile at his words. Susan squeezed her tightly. "I love you, Lucy," she said tenderly. "I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you, too," whispered Lucy. Susan looked at her loving, innocent sister and tried not to think of all the days she would be apart from her, or else she knew she would cry.

Peter took Lucy in his arms and Susan ran her fingers through Edmund's black hair. "Edmund," she said gently. "I'm going to miss you so much."

Edmund said nothing.

"Please promise you'll take care of Lucy," said Susan in a quite tone. Peter was whispering words of comfort to Lucy. "She's as valiant as anyone could possibly be, but she's still a girl. You two are going into a new school. I'm scared for her."

"Don't be," her younger brother answered gruffly. "I'll take care of her. Promise."

Susan fingered his cheekbone gratefully. "Thank you, Ed."

Edmund turned to walk away…then all of the sudden he seemed to change his mind, for he whipped back around and flung himself into Susan's arms. Overwhelmed by grief, Susan felt tears coming on as she wrapped her arms around Edmund, but she held them back the best she could.

Edmund let go of her after a brief amount of time. Then for the first time in a long time…since their golden age reign in Narnia, in fact…he quietly leaned toward her and kissed the side of her head. It was easy for him to do, seeing that he was taller then her.

"I love you," he said, hugging her again. "I'll miss you bossing me around."

Susan smiled and answered. "I love you, too, you little twerp. Be careful, King Edmund, okay?"

Edmund nodded. Peter gripped his shoulder.

"Guard Lucy with your life," he whispered in Edmund's ear. "Be safe, Ed."

Edmund nodded again and hugged him. Peter let him go as their mother walked up to the four of them

"Ready?" she asked, blinking profusely, and Lucy and Edmund nodded. Edmund wrapped his fingers around Lucy's as they stepped down from the walkway onto the street and into the carriage. Mrs. Pevensie jumped into it after them.

"I would hurry if I were you, Peter," she called out to them just before the driver closed the door. "You'll be late for your job."

Peter nodded and the door to the carriage closed. The driver stepped up to the seat and clicked to the horses, and they were off down the street before Susan could even wave goodbye. Peter put his arm around her as they watched their siblings head off toward downtown London, where their old home was and where the lot of their old neighbor's house still stood empty. Susan wiped tears from her face.

"Well," Peter said long after the cart had disappeared. "At least there aren't gangs where they are going."

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**Please review! Again I'm sorry for the lack of action; keep on reading and I'll get to it eventually!!!**

**Thank you again to my amazing reviewers!**


	10. Chapter 9: Home Alone

**Hey guys!**

**So I had trouble with the last chapter but I've had the rough draft of this one ready for ages…so all I had to do was fix it up a little bit and post it. Hopefully it's come soon for you guys.**

**Thank you to my outstanding reviewers who have stayed so loyally by this story! Enjoy.**

**Oh, and a warning…this chapter is a little more intense then the rest…..finally some action….

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It was too lonely being by herself.

Susan discovered that really fast, about five minutes after Peter walked out the door. It was too quiet and the silence was too full of grief for her to want to do anything.

"Oh, Aslan," she said to the emptiness after a long while, "will you keep me this miserable forever?"

There was no answer, as she expected, but three words, just three words, leapt into her head the moment she had stopped speaking, words that spread warmth throughout her body: _faith, dear heart_.

When Peter didn't come home at his regular time she carelessly thought he was just buying food for the three of them for that night. But as the hours slipped by and the sun started to set, Susan started to panic.

She was livid when he walked through the door at about half past seven.

"_Where_ _were_ _you_?" she cried furiously as Peter carefully set down a bag of groceries. "I was worried sick! And the gangs are roaming around this time of night, too! I—"

"Rel_ax_, Su," Peter said, looking somewhat incredulous. "Gusler wanted me to stay longer today. I told him that my mum knew I was working there now so he wanted to know if it was okay that I worked longer. I told him yes. Now I'm getting twice the pay."

"You look exhausted," Susan said angrily as she seized the bag from the table and riffled through it. Potatoes. Bread. Sticks of butter. Meat. She took out the meat and put it on the cutting board. She grabbed a knife off the counter and started chopping. "I don't want you working that long."

"It's not that long. Only nine o'clock to seven—"

"That's _ten_ hours, Peter."

"Mum works fourteen, sometimes fifteen," Peter shot at her as he sat down.

Susan ignored him. "And when are you going to learn your lessons? You're going to the university next school year, Peter…I thought—"

"I'll find time, Su, you know I will," said Peter, yawning.

"When? In the middle of the night?" Susan asked as she sliced the meat furiously. "I find it hard to believe that—"

"Since when do you care about my studies?" Peter asked, sounding slightly annoyed. "I said I would find a way. Mum needs my help right now. And I'm sure she isn't going to object when I bring home more money."

"And she won't object at all when—AAAH!"

Peter leapt out of his chair as though he had been electrified at her scream, bolting over to her. Susan's eyes filled with tears as pain spread through her hand; she had cut her left index finger open with the knife.

"Good Lord," said Peter in horror as blood started dripping down her finger. Susan gasped with agony and he bolted over to the sink and pulled out the dish rag.

"Did you go through the bone?" he asked anxiously as he wrapped her finger in it. "God, Su, Mum told you to be careful with knives—"

"I _know_!" shouted Susan as her finger throbbed profusely. "I didn't go through the bone, praise Aslan."

Peter squeezed the rag around her finger so tightly she felt her circulation being cut off. "Dammit, Susan, now I bet this won't close up for a while—"

"Stop overreacting," snapped Susan, even as the blood started seeping through the rag. "Just…let me hold it there for a while…it'll stop…"

And funnily enough it did. Peter finished cooking the meat by her instruction and Susan sat at the table nursing her wounded finger but after ten or fifteen minutes it had stopped bleeding. It gave an occasional throb now and then but most of the pain died down after time.

Peter ripped one of the washcloths and wrapped it around the split skin.

"I think you set yourself up for that one," he muttered as he tied the ends together carefully.

Susan sighed and smiled. "Maybe." Their argument had been long forgotten.

Within the next several days Susan was starting to dread the hours where she was alone. Lucy and Edmund had always been good company, and before Peter had gotten a job and they lived in their own home they had always done things to make the summer days fly by, like going to the park and daydreaming on Narnia, or swimming in one of the lakes near their home. Now all three of her siblings were gone, two of them for a long time, and her life was empty.

Susan threw herself into her studies. Her mother had bought her and Peter their schoolbooks they would have used for their old boarding school, the one they used to go to but where Lucy and Edmund couldn't have gone to that year because it was too expensive. But even though she wasn't technically at school, Susan tried to adapt herself back to studies. She wrote little essays for her mother to read when she came home at night, answered questions about history and did mini experiments in science. She hated math with a passion but Peter, being a year ahead of her, was able to help her though the formulas and strangeness of numbers when he was home. And when her school was over she would sew the clothes her mother brought home for her. She got ten to fifteen orders from her mother per day. She could only imagine what Mrs. Pevensie had to do at work.

"I'll be back soon with some more," Helen told her as she gratefully one day as she scooped up the clothing Susan had carefully sewn. "Are you sure you can do all of this and have time for your studies, Su?"

"Of course, Mum," Susan said, smiling.

"If you say so, dear," Mrs. Pevensie said now. "Do you have things to eat for lunch?"

"Yes, we still have some bread and meat."

"How's your finger?"

Susan held up her hand and let her mother examine it. The night she had nearly cut her finger off, Mrs. Pevensie had nearly fainted at the sight of all the blood on the dishrag. Now her face turned only a little pale.

"Just be sure to be careful," her mother told her, kissing her cheek. "I'll be back in a couple of hours."

Susan went back to her math and was still trying to figure out how the distance formula worked when someone knocked on the front door. Frowning, Susan looked up at the clock. Indeed, several hours had passed…. In disbelief at the amount of time had gone by Susan walked to the front, wondering why her mother didn't unlock the entrance herself, and fumbled with the doorknob for a second before opening the door.

"Did you leave your keys at the—" she started, but her stomach suddenly plummeted to her feet and her voice died at the sight of who stood there in front of her.

It was Byron.

For the few seconds that the two stared at each other, Susan's mind didn't fully register the fact that her landlord—whom she had not seen in ages—had placed himself firmly right there…right _there_…outside her door, black, threatening eyes already on her. Byron looked straight into her eyes.

"Hello," he said softly. "May I come in, please."

And suddenly he _was_ in; somehow—Susan was too shocked to understand it—he shoved her roughly aside and was in their house, filthy boots tramping on the floor and eyes looking everywhere. Susan's heart started to beat a little faster and her head started spinning once he had shut the door with a solid push; it clicked behind him and Byron locked it. He turned to her.

"Where is your mother?" he asked. He wasn't looking at her face.

Susan swallowed nervously. "Sh-she's at work."

Byron frowned. "I need to speak with her."

"You could…could stop by her shop, maybe…if…if she's there…and they…" Susan trailed off, brain not functioning the right way. Byron at last looked up into her eyes.

"Tell me," he said quietly, eyes unblinking. "Has your mother taught you manners?"

Susan blinked. "Well…I…yes, I mean…"

"Because when you have a guest over to your house it is very important that you make sure they are happy," said Byron very slowly and dangerously. "I am not happy right now."

It occurred to her that Byron was not by any means a _guest_. Susan didn't know what to say. She took a careful step away from Byron, not taking her eyes off him.

Her landlord's face suddenly changed into a wide smile—something that greatly startled and terrified her. Moments later he took a step closer to her, shortening the distance between them and backing Susan up to the wall. "Did you hear me, little girl?"

Susan felt her hands trembling violently as she tried to speak again.

"Your mother owes me lots of money, girl," Byron hissed. His smile faded. "And I want to know where she is."

"She's at work," Susan choked out. Her heart beat faster as Byron took a step closer to her.

"At _which_ work, you brainless little tramp. There is a great deal of places your mother could be and I want you to be _specific_!"

Susan couldn't breathe. Her mouth formed words to say but she didn't hear any noise coming out.

"Answer me!" roared Byron with a sudden burst of energy. He was so close to Susan now she could feel the spit flying from his mouth on her cheeks. "_Now_!"

"At M-Mary's Seamstress Store," she squeaked.

Byron's eyes narrowed. "You lie."

"Why would I _lie_?" Susan said shakily, chest heaving with every terrified breath she took. "Why can't you just leave my mother alone?"

Byron started at her for a split second more, then suddenly his hand shot upward and he smacked her violently across the face.

Susan recoiled and she hit the wall with a hard _thump_! before she even knew what hit her. Her jaw and cheek throbbed and smarted as her hand flew upward toward her face out of instinct; her thoughts started jumbling up in her mind so she didn't know what she was thinking.

"Girl," snarled Byron and Susan suddenly felt numb. "Insolent little whore."

Susan felt a harsh blow to her pride at these words. "I'm not a whore," she whispered, more to herself then to Byron.

She turned to look at him and saw, to her horror, another cruel smile spreading across his face. "Allow me to fix that."

Before Susan could even take in the meaning of his words, he grabbed her by the forearms and yanked her to him with such a sudden force she nearly stumbled. Panic erupted in her mind as his hands crept upwards toward the top of her shirt, fingering her chest roughly with dirty hands. Susan's cry was more of surprise then anything else and she yanked against his grip.

"No!" she shouted and she was slammed into the wall again. To her relief he did nothing else but gaze at her, possibly because the shouts of the man and wife across the street suddenly echoed off the walls and startled him. Susan stood there gasping with fear, trembling silently.

Byron stood there a minute without saying anything. Susan's mind was frantically trying to comprehend what had just happened and what to do to get him out of her house…

Suddenly Byron reached into his coat and drew something out of it. Susan screamed.

In an instant he was pressed up against her again; this time a shiny steel switchblade was held to her throat. Susan shrieked again but this time she could not move. Byron's eyes narrowed.

"You will not tell anyone I was here," he breathed into her face. His face was so close to hers she could smell his putrid breath. "Do I make myself clear, little whore?"

Susan found it in her power to make herself to nod. Byron took the knife away from her throat and walked over to the door. As quietly as he had come, he slipped outside and walked away.

Susan collapsed to the floor. Her legs felt weak, her head was spinning, her chest hurt from being so roughly touched. After a second or two both her throat choked up and her common sense kicked in again, and she forced herself up and she shut the door with shaking hands. She locked it frantically. Without thinking anymore she sat down silently on the couch and stared at the wall.

Her heart was pounding. It hurt her chest as it thumped away as though doing a drum roll, and there was sweat on her forehead. Susan sat there and gazed at the picture of her and her siblings, concentrating on their happy faces. Lucy looked so pretty and sweet as a one year old, and Peter, even back then, was so caring and protective. Edmund, of course, had the mischief look in his eyes.

Suddenly tears spilled out of her eyes, and she began to cry. It took her a second to realize that she wasn't crying because she missed her family…she had been assaulted. By her landlord. By someone she could not report to the police without fear of being kicked out of her home.

What had Byron said to her? It was all jumbled up in her mind…all she remembered was being touched where no one ever touched her and that knife, so cold and sharp, pressed up to her throat. "_You will not tell anyone_…" he had hissed at her.

Susan wiped her eyes and started at the picture once more. Maybe she had nothing to tell. Maybe the whole ordeal had never happened…

Had it?

When she went to her room and took off her shirt and saw the bruises, she knew that somehow it had…and no one could ever find out.

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**Too intense? Badly written? Tell me your thoughts on this! Please?**

**Thank you for reading!**


	11. Chapter 10: Daily Life

**Ahh! I'm so so so sorry for the really long update! I have to confess that I was in a little trouble for this story…for a couple weeks I didn't know where it was going and what to write next so things started falling apart…**

**Luckily it all came through and I figured out this story's future! I doubt it will be over twenty chapters, so hopefully it will be finished in the next couple of months, preferably before summer. But…yeah. Here it is!**

**Okay, enough of my ramblings. Enjoy and please review! Thank you so _so_ much to all of you who give me undying support!

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With every passing day at her new boarding school Lucy's heart ached for home even more.

The school wasn't bad, exactly. Girls taunted her, teachers were strict, and nearly every day someone was able to either shove her to the ground or trip her, but she didn't care. Lucy found that she didn't care much about a lot of things anymore.

What really got to her was that home was so far away from her now, and she knew she wasn't going back too soon.

Edmund was her only comfort. Together they found refuge in the library and he let her pour her heart out to him for hours, until the dinner bell rang and they had to leave.

"I miss Dad…I miss Narnia," Lucy would wail. "I want to go home, Ed…I miss Mum and Peter and Su…"

Edmund stroked her hair and wiped away her tears when she cried, encouraging her to keep up faith.

"Aslan said we'd go back," he told her, because he didn't know what else to say. "We just have to wait. We'll go back when we least expect it, Lu…you know we will…"

Together they talked about their Golden Reign in Narnia, about the fifteen years they spent there; they remembered the times where they were happy and the memories they had never let escape their minds.

"And remember you and Peter used to keep a tally on how many suitors Su got each month?"

"And how you girls sang with the fauns on my 17th birthday?"

"And when we beat the giants on the northern border? And Peter came back to all of us and everyone threw flowers at him; they were so happy…"

"Remember all the hunting?"

"And the dancing, and Mr. Tumnus, and the lovely beavers…."

It was their only comfort. They were able to escape from their school for a few hours into their land of Narnia; it gave them strength that lasted through the next day.

For one of Lucy's essays for English she had to pick someone she admired in her life and write two pages on them. She chose her father. When she read it aloud to the class the day it was due, the teacher stood at the back of the class with a frown on his face.

"Miss Pevensie," he said abruptly when Lucy had finished. "You say your father was killed during battle?"

"Yes, sir," Lucy said quietly, unhappiness in her heart.

"If he is not alive and not an inspiration to you nowadays, then I'm afraid this essay is not relevant. I specifically asked for you to write an essay about someone you admire and who _continues_ to give you encouragement _today_."

"But…but my father still gives me encouragement, sir, even if he's dead," choked out Lucy. A few members of her class giggled.

"How, may I ask, is that possible, Miss Pevensie?" her teacher asked sternly. The class giggled again.

"I…I…" Lucy didn't know how to put it into words. "I just…remember what he said to me…and use it when…when I need help…."

"That will do, Miss Pevensie," the teacher said. "You will write an assignment for me in replacement of this one, for no credit, about how important it is to follow directions. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir," said Lucy miserably, blinking back tears.

"It shall be due Thursday." The teacher scribbled something on his clipboard, then said, "Mr. Rockley. Please stand up and share your essay to the class." As Lucy shuffled to her seat he added, "And I do hope that this one will be written properly."

Lucy wiped the tears running down her face on the back of her hand, trying not to sniff too loud and attract even more attention. Wendy—one of the cruelest girls in her class—whispered something to her friend and they both giggled uncontrollably, looking at Lucy with glee in their eyes. Lucy looked away from them and tried to focus on what Benjamin Rockley was saying.

"Sometimes when I'm back home, my brother takes me for a game of football in the park or we go catch birds. We bring them home to Mother, who cooks them for us for dinner. Dad always likes it when we bring home birds. One day, when my brother—"

Lucy thought of her brothers. In Narnia, they would never have dared to consider the idea of shooting birds—especially Talking birds. And her sister…well, her title said it all. The Gentle…

Lucy sang the song she and Susan sung all the time in her head. _Within the contents of your soul there lies a secret song…a song that falls and grows at times as your life lives on…_

"Thank you, Mr. Rockley. Miss Russel?" her teacher said in a bored voice.

_Whether it is high or low, loud or soft or sweet…the accuracy of your sweet melody means the most to me…Sing to all with honesty, sing for those who don't know truth…sing with faith and don't lose heart; sing the song that lives in you._

_Aslan, help me; don't leave me_, Lucy thought, praying with all her heart Wendy and her friend had stopped talking about her. _Help me sing_.

OOO

Peter knew.

The instant he walked in the door and saw her, Susan got the horrible, awful feeling that he knew. Or maybe he just saw the mark on her face.

"What," he said in horror, "the hell happened to you?"

Susan had been working on her speech the whole day. "Nothing, I just hit my face on the table today—"

"Your cheek is so _red_," Peter said, sounding aghast, gazing at the side of her face. "You couldn't have hit your face on the table. What happened?"

"I just slipped, Peter, on some water, you know. My face just hit the side of the table—"

"Why are you slouching?" Peter demanded. "Did you hit your back, too?"

"What? Oh, no. Well, I sort of hit it. On the ground, I mean."

"On the ground."

"When I fell."

"Um-hmm," Peter said, eyes narrowed. "I don't believe you."

"What else could have happened?" Susan shot at him.

"Did you go outside today?"

"No!"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," Susan snapped.

"So you weren't doing anything outside."

"No! I slipped and smacked my cheek on the table. That's all."

"Susan, you never were good at lying," Peter said, fed up, as he moved toward her to get a closer look at her face. Susan backed into the counter and in a flash she remembered Byron, forcing her against the wall with his hands reaching for her and she had been trapped…. something in her mind reacted; her heart seized up and all of the sudden she was screaming in terror.

Peter stopped dead. He took one or two steps back with his eyes shocked and utterly petrified; Susan stopped screaming and her breath came in short little gasps.

Peter looked at her, frozen.

"S-Su?" he asked, voice trembling and very quiet.

"I'm fine!" Susan shrieked at him. Her voice had gone up several octaves. "Why don't you bloody believe me?! Can't you leave me alone for once?"

Peter was silent as the grave and he stood back, a good distance away from her, as she caught her breath and was able to start bustling around the kitchen again to make dinner. After about five minutes he sat down at the table, pulling out the chair slowly as though trying not to make a sound, and started reading from a textbook, occasionally looking up at her as though inquiring for an explanation. Susan ignored him, chopping onions and chicken carefully, heart thumping in her sore chest. Peter knew. He knew she was lying. She wouldn't be able to convince him to believe anything but the truth…and if he knew the truth….

They hadn't spoken a word to each other by the time their mother arrived back home. She was holding several shirts that needed to be sewed and she looked exhausted.

"Hello, Peter, Su," she said, looking around for a moment then sighing. "Goodness…I keep forgetting Edmund and Lucy aren't here…."

"How was your day, Mum?" Susan asked pleasantly.

"It went well." They were following the same old script. "Yours was okay?"

"Of course." Susan didn't look directly at her mother as she said it, but she noticed that her brother was still eying her.

"Peter, you didn't work too hard today?"

"No, Mum. Just exercised the horses a little bit."

"Well, that's good. And I suppose you'll be getting—" Their mother stopped dead as she caught sight of Susan's face. She gasped. "My goodness!"

"Mum, I'm fine!" Susan said, already prepared to defend her pride. "I just hit my face—"

"What _happened_?" her mother cried as she rushed toward her, throwing the shirts to the ground. Again Susan felt the terror in her heart from being closed in, but she managed not to scream. "Susan, what on earth could you have done—?"

"I just slipped and smacked it on the table, Mum," Susan said desperately, her mother gently reaching for her face. She backed away from her with a beating heart.

"Don't go anywhere. Let me see you! This doesn't look like you fell and hit something, Susan!"

"Yeah, isn't that the dumbest story ever?" Peter asked, walking toward them though keeping a good distance away from Susan. "She wouldn't tell me what really happened."

"What are these bruises from?" Mrs. Pevensie said in shock, hands rushing to Susan's forearms. "Susan, what on earth happened?"

"I fell, okay?" Susan snapped. Her throat choked up. "Why can't you believe me?"

"Were you outside today?" Helen asked, echoing Peter.

"No!"

"Are you sure you just fell? Honey, it looks like you hit something really hard—"

"I'm _fine_!" shouted Susan in her mother's face. Mrs. Pevensie let go of her arms, started. "Mum, I promise you I fell. I wasn't outside, I wasn't doing anything except being careless when I slipped!"

"Are you sure, Su?" Helen asked tentatively, looking worried. "I mean—"

"Yes!" Susan cried. She was breathing fast and shakily; she tried to steady herself. "Yes, Mum. I guess I need to be more careful."

"Well…I don't want you sewing those orders with hurt hands, Su. Maybe—"

"It's alright, Mum. I could still sew."

Mrs. Pevensie sighed and put a hand to her forehead. "Okay, Su. Was it water you slipped on?"

"I think so."

"Please try to be more careful, okay?"

"Okay."

"I think that's rubbish," Peter said loudly.

"Hush," Helen said coldly, looking at Susan for a second more then turning back to the door to pick up her shirts. "Our Su doesn't lie."

Susan quickly looked away from her mother and Peter, focusing on the plate of turkey she was cutting up. _It was just one time; it's not like it's going to happen again. I just had to lie once…I won't lie again because I won't have to_….

"Susan? Did you get your essay done that I asked you to write?"

"Yes, Mum," she answered quietly, not looking at Helen. She deliberately tried to avoid eye contact with her brother, who was still looking at her with an unconvinced expression on his face.

OOO

When Lucy told Edmund she had to rewrite her essay he wasn't mad, or even surprised. He just took a new piece of paper from his bag and said, "Well, you should start now. I'll help you so we can get it done before dinner."

He gave her sympathy, however, when she told him that Wendy had openly made fun of her.

"It's not _fair_," Lucy said as she looked at the empty paper. "Why does she have to be mean to me? Isn't the teacher enough for me to handle?"

"She's jealous of you, Lu."

"Why?"

"Because you're smart and pretty and you don't care what others think about you…or do you?" When Lucy didn't answer, Edmund sighed and said, "You have what she wants and what she doesn't have—and she wants to feel big so she tries to bring you down. Don't let her bring you down, Lucy. Don't let anyone bring you down. Now let's finish this essay."

The two of them had stopped fighting their surroundings; they had stopped resisting what they could not control. Their school was just part of their lives now and they had to accept it, had to be at live with it. The strong survived. The weak were kicked around in the dirt on the weekends and thrown against walls between classes. Lucy knew that she had to be the strong. Otherwise she would die slowly from the inside; whether or not she had accepted what was now her life.

That night she gazed out her window, looking at the stars and thinking of the Narnian constellations, longing for her mother and Peter and Susan. More then anything she wanted her dad to come to her door and take her for a nighttime walk, and point out the tress and the flowers like he used to. If she tried really hard, she could hear his voice and feel his hand rumpling her hair, and her heart was at peace like it used to be. Lucy leaned her head against the woodwork, putting a hand to the glass and spreading her fingers so her palm seemed as though it was gripping the sky.

Lucy looked up at the quivering stars and sat there at the window for minutes, hours…she didn't know the time…until a rough hand on her shoulder jerked her back to reality.

"It's late," said a spiteful voice in the distance. "Why are you still up gawking out the window, Pevensie?"

Lucy blinked and looked up into Wendy's face. She must have gotten out of bed for a drink, for her hair was scraggly and she was rubbing her eyes.

"I'm not tired," Lucy answered politely.

"I bet you wish you had followed directions for that essay, eh?" Wendy asked, covering a yawn with her hand and glaring down at her. "Maybe if your daddy hadn't died it would have gotten a good grade."

Lucy felt heat rising in her face and one of her hands rose upwards silently without her knowing it; then suddenly she jerked it back down as she realized what she had been about to do.

"My dad died defending England," she said quietly, looking Wendy straight in the eye. "There's nothing that anyone else wrote about that seemed more inspiring then that."

Wendy blinked. "You're so stupid that you don't even know what an inspirational person _is_. You don't inspire anyone if you're _dead_."

Lucy couldn't help but smile. "To me, _dead_ means forgotten and flung away. But if I can remember my dad then to me," she said proudly, "he's still alive."

She didn't hear what Wendy said after that before walking away to get her drink. As she turned her head back to the window all she heard was a quiet whisper in her head and she felt a gentle touch of something soft and tender on her nose. Lucy felt warmth and a tiny tingle of happiness spread through her body as she heard the words in her mind.

_My queen_.

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**I hope you are enjoying this story! If not, don't feel obliged to read any further! Just take me off the alert list and walk away as though nothing ever happened! lol**

**If you are still somewhat interested, however, or want to give me advice (which I feel I need) please please _please_ leave a review and I will appreciate it greatly!!!**

**Bye! Oh, and to my anonymous reviewers whom I can't respond to, you still are amazing and I thank you wholeheartedly!!!**


	12. Chapter 11: In Doubt

**I think another decade has passed since I last updated!!!! This story is just getting harder and harder to write since I've just taken up driving lessons (just got my permit WOO-HOO!), working with and riding horses every Saturday, and since school ends in a month I've got finals to study for…anyhoo. You get the gist.**

**But I do have the rest of this story planned out…it's just the matter of getting time to sit down and write the last six or seven chapters that's the problem…I am sorry for the wait, however. :) I really am trying to update as soon as fully possible.**

**So enough of my ramblings…enjoy!**

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The next morning when Peter and Mrs. Pevensie were at work, Susan locked the front door, told herself she would not answer it no matter what happened, and shut herself in her room with her school books. She closed the shutters in the window so all but a little light was blocked. With wary hands she took off her blouse again and looked at her bruises.

They were swelling; the hideous black and purple blemishes on her chest made her heart twist. With trembling fingers she pulled her blouse back on and looked at her forearms. They were bruised as well.

"Why, Aslan, why have you done this to me?" Susan whimpered out loud before she could stop herself. For a few seconds this thought loomed in her head, then before she knew it, she was crying. "You took my father from me forever, and my brother and sister are away for a long time, and I'm all alone here until night and now our horrid landlord treats me like I'm property! Why, Aslan?" She was rambling on now but she couldn't stop. "Why did you ban me from Narnia? Why are you so cruel?"

Susan threw her maths book on the floor and sat down on her bed. Misery in her heart bubbled up into her throat so that her sobs made her entire body shake; the tears kept dribbling down her cheeks no matter how much she wiped at them with her hands.

How long she sat there and sobbed, she didn't know, but when she opened her eyes suddenly she felt something inside her change, as though an invisible presence had entered the room with her not knowing. Suddenly she felt self-conscious about her crying.

"Why, Aslan?" she murmured again, and suddenly the room filled with golden light.

It lasted only for a second, however, for once the Lion had taken his place in the room the rest of the area seemed as though it had been drained of color; in contrast to the Lion's golden fur everything else seemed dead to the touch. The room was barely big enough to contain his bulk.

Susan was speechless. Aslan solemnly looked at her, golden eyes full of sadness. His tail whipped through the air.

"Susan." His voice…one that Susan remembered so, so well, made her tremble.

Somehow she didn't comprehend what she was seeing. Susan could only stare at him with wide eyes, saying nothing.

Aslan gazed at her. "Why do you weep, my love?" he asked, golden eyes solemn and profound. "Why do you accuse me so?"

Susan did nothing.

"Susan," the Lion said again, tone gentler this time. "You feel as though you need someone to blame for your suffering, do you not?"

"Aslan…" Susan choked out. If the invisible barrier in her mind hadn't held her back from rushing at him, she would have buried her face in his beautiful, golden mane and let his warm breath wash over her just then.

"Do you wonder how I am here?" Aslan asked, not taking his eyes on Susan's.

Suddenly she did not question his ability to be there. She was not about to question why or how he had crossed the porthole between his world and hers…then it occurred to her that Aslan might belong this world, too. Why _shouldn't_ he be there?

Susan was able to pull together a sentence. "Do you…do you know what I've been through? Do you know what we've all been going through?"

"Of course I know, Susan," Aslan said gently, yet with a hint of warning in his tone. "How could I not?"

Susan unexpectedly began to cry again. "I hate Byron," she wailed and for once she didn't care how childish she might have sounded. "He's cheating my mother with the rent and he burned down our neighbor's house and…and he came to me yesterday and…and…"

Aslan walked forward a step or two and gently exhaled into Susan's face and neck, calming her. He _was_ really there, alive and real and good and kind and everything she needed. Susan sniffed and let his breath seep into her mind and heart.

"It is natural to feel what you are feeling now, my love," Aslan told her. Susan had to look away from his great, overpowering eyes. "You have been mistreated and abused."

"Why did he have to come into our lives?" Susan whimpered, wiping her face.

"He is here to teach you the lessons you need to know," answered Aslan gravely. "He is here for a reason; never think everything happens randomly."

Susan didn't know what to say at first. "But…then, my father—"

"Your father," said Aslan quietly, his voice a gentle rumble, "was a good man who died doing a brave and noble thing: fighting for his country. His death, no doubt, has affected you and your family powerfully—but has it not made you stronger?"

"What do you mean, Aslan?"

"Has his death not taught you lessons you have needed to learn?"

"But—?

"Think, dear heart, think," Aslan said softly.

Susan looked at him and thought. What had she learned since her father had been killed? How to deal with grief? How to support her family through sadness? Was it possible she had gotten closer to her mother and siblings then she had been before?

"See?" Aslan murmured, as though sensing her realization. "Do not feel as though it isn't normal to feel grief, for it is—but do not let it destroy you. Allow it to make you stronger."

Susan just gazed at him, eyes melting with tears again.

"You are a queen to me, and to your siblings, whether you are or are not in Narnia," said Aslan. "Narnia was a place where you _learned_ how to be strong. Believe in it, and in me, and you will be strong here, too. I believe in you. You can be a queen even here."

"It's so hard, Aslan," whispered Susan.

"I never said it was easy," Aslan said gently. "Susan, what Byron did to you is not acceptable. You are remaining silent because you think it is shielding your family from trouble and shock, but the truth is that it is only hurting you."

"What do you want me to do?" Susan asked him, wiping her eyes. "_Tell_ them?"

"Yes," said Aslan, gazing at her with unblinking eyes. "Tell your elder brother, who loves you and has only been trying to help you, and your mother, who will never stop caring for you no matter what happens. Both are worried, Susan, and you only have one convinced that nothing is wrong."

"I thought Peter was paranoid when he went out of his way to keep Byron away from me," Susan muttered.

"He was protecting you, my love," Aslan said. "He knows you too well and from past experience in Narnia he knows when to keep you away from certain men."

"I can't tell him," Susan whispered. "He'll go crazy."

"Peter will be furious, no doubt, that you have been abused," Aslan told her. "But once Byron is put in prison he will recover, and he will feel confident that Byron will not get near you again."

"Byron would kill me if I told," Susan said despairingly. "He'd kick us out of our house."

"Susan," Aslan said gently. "If you tell someone with authority in private, you will be surprised what happens next."

Susan looked into his eyes and saw nothing but love and understanding there. He breathed on her again, and she felt calmness and possibly courage spread through her.

"I need you to be strong, Susan," Aslan said softly. "For your own good, and for your family's. Can you?"

"Yes, Aslan," said Susan quietly.

Aslan's eyes softened. "Will you?"

Susan hesitated for a moment, the answered, "I'll…I'll try."

"I ask," Aslan said gently, "of nothing more." His tone, rich and full of love, warmed Susan over. He leaned forward and touched his nose to her forehead, giving her a Lion's kiss, and when he pulled away, he stepped back several paces to where he had come into the room.

"Believe in me and Narnia, my queen," he told her, "and you will have strength anywhere to do anything. Remember that my faith in you never dies."

Susan felt warmth spread through her again as Aslan held his head high. In the same way he had come, he disappeared in a gentle mist of light that remained in the room as an afterimage—just for a moment—before disappearing. When the light flickered and faded the room looked oddly blank, and Susan found herself staring at the opposite wall, eyes set on the place where Aslan had been.

"I'll try," she whispered again. But deep down inside her that inner warmth was fading slowly…slowly… _Could I find it again? _Susan found herself thinking desperately. _Help me, Aslan…stay with me_…

Then she heard the words, and the warmth came flooding back.

_My queen_.

OOO

The only words Peter said to Susan when he came home from work several hours later were, "Hello," and "Have a good day?" After that he was mute, giving Susan the opportunity to think logically.

_Aslan wants him to know_.

But he would go ballistic! He'd try to kill Byron with his bare hands and get himself into trouble…

_But he needs to know_.

She couldn't tell him. She couldn't admit he had been right all along…couldn't describe to him exactly how Byron had abused her…

_He's your brother. He's your best friend._

She couldn't tell…

_Aslan believes in you_…_remember what he said_…

"Peter?" Susan whispered from the kitchen table, disrupting their moody silence that had gone on for hours. Peter glanced over from the couch.

"What?" he asked.

Perhaps he didn't mean to sound aggressive; however, Susan took it in as though he did. "I…"

Where in the world was she supposed to start? Aslan coming to her? When Byron had pushed himself through their front door? Her voice shook and died; her stomach twisted in on itself and she could not continue. "Nothing."

Peter eyed her carefully. When Susan looked back to her book, he said, "Tell me, Su."

Susan shook her head. Her throat was choking up. "Nothing."

"I bloody grew up with you, Susan; wouldn't you expect me to know when something is or isn't wrong?" Peter looked impatient. "You are hiding something from me."

"No," mumbled Susan, feeling ashamed of herself already.

"You didn't that answer slide with me," Peter said, standing up and walking over to sit down next to her. "So I'm not letting it slide with you. What were you going to say?"

Susan just stared at her book, eyes filling with tears. Before either of them could say a word, however, the front door flew open and their mother walked in.

"Hello!" she said. Her voice was so happy and her face looked ready to split in two as her smile was so wide. "Oh, Peter, Su! I'm getting a new job!"

Slowly Susan and Peter turned around. Susan felt thunderstruck.

"What?" they said at the same time.

"They told me at the store they wanted me to work more hours," Mrs. Pevensie said, almost crying with joy. "And I told them no, I couldn't spend any more time away from my children, then out came the whole story of our home and your father…." She put down a grocery bag and Susan noticed she wasn't carrying any shirts to be sewn. "….And my boss upgraded me! I'm going to sew in a formal shop now…for twice the pay, you two! Twice the pay! In a few weeks we might be able to move out of here!"

Susan didn't really comprehend what her mother was saying at that particular moment…all she knew was that Helen looked happier then she had in what seemed like months and that was enough.

"This is wonderful, Mum," Peter told her with a smile, getting up and kissing her cheek. "All that work paid off, didn't it?"

"It most certainly did," Mrs. Pevensie beamed, hugging him.

"And I can give you what I earned…it'll help, won't it?"

Their mother was really crying now. She hugged Peter harder and said, "You're a good man, Peter. You truly are. I promise you I'll touch the money you worked so hard for only if we absolutely need it."

"But—"

"I mean it, Peter," Mrs. Pevensie said. "Susan? You haven't spoken a word!"

"She was about to," Peter said under his breath.

"That's great, Mum," Susan said softly. She arranged her face into a smile. "I'm so happy for you."

"Maybe we'll move closer to Ed and Lucy's school," Helen said blissfully as she started to unpack the food she had in the bag. "I'm sure you two will be able to go to school as well once I've had this job for a few months…."

"And I could still work on the weekends, and help out," Peter added.

"If you had time, dear…I just can't believe what good fortune this is…after so long doesn't it seem like everything is finally going our way?"

It did seem true—until nighttime when Peter reminded Susan again of their conversation before their mother came home.

"So, Su. What were you going to tell me?"

Susan looked at him. His face flickered in the lamplight of their room.

Nighttime was when she missed her younger siblings most; she missed Edmund's boldness and Lucy's sweet little ideas and opinions about whatever they all were talking about. Now as she looked at her elder brother she realized that by not telling him the truth she was changing everything. The four of them had never had secrets from each other, not in Narnia or in England. They had always shared advice and support and they had always been united no matter what.

Susan could almost picture Aslan…gazing at her with those eyes….She imagined how happy he would be with her, how proud he would feel if she just found it deep inside herself to speak the truth…

Then again she could picture Byron standing in their house again…with the knife…

"I didn't really slip on water," she heard herself say to her brother. "I was going to go to the marketplace and I was outside and…and this woman came and pushed me on accident. I fell. That's why I have these bruises."

Peter just stared at her. And until Susan turned out the light so they could sleep, he still continued to gaze in her direction with a confused look on his face—clearly still trying to understand what had happened to the Gentle Queen.

* * *

**So I admit it, I was really afraid to post this chapter because of the whole appearance of Aslan…and I was terrified that I didn't write it right, or made Aslan out of character…so please honestly tell me what you thought of that scene (as well as the rest of the chapter lol)! I really really hope I wrote it somewhat okay.**

**I promise to try and update as soon as possible. Please review (remember anonymous reviews are allowed!) and thank you so much for reading! Your reviews are appreciated so much!**


	13. Chapter 12: Seeking Truth

**Okay you guys, good news and bad news.**

**The good news is that you're going to like what happens in this chapter; the bad news is that I'm going to have to put this fan fic aside for a little while as I study for my finals and (after those are over) work at a part time job this summer (plus a ton of vacations with my family). I promise you faithful readers of mine out there that I haven't abandoned this story at all; I'm just going to call this chapter and all the other chapters before it Part One, and everything I finish after it Part Two. When I do get to Part Two, however, I'll make sure I have the rest of the story done so I can post chapters every few days, rather then every few months :)**

**Thank you so much to all of my readers out there!!! Every review I get is so appreciated!**

**So, I'll stop rambling and I hope you guys enjoy the last chapter of So Changed I'm going to post for a long time :( Enjoy!**

* * *

Lucy and Edmund were coming back. 

It was only for a weekend, really, but the second they walked through their door, wide smiles on their faces and shouting joyfully, Susan felt at that moment as though her younger siblings were back with her forever.

"Lucy! Edmund!" she cried happily as Mrs. Pevensie walked through the door with them at her heals. They rushed at each other blissfully, so, so happy to be back together, while their mother laughed and wiped her eyes.

"Peter! Susan!" Lucy was screaming. In those few minutes of greeting her siblings Susan forgot all of her agony and everything that had happened in the last few days; everything seemed right again. Lucy was all smiles and glowing light; Edmund looked happier then she had seen him in months.

"Mum got a new job!" he yelled as Peter caught him in a bear hug. "Did you guys know that? We're getting out of here!"

That night the four of them sat up late in their beds; Peter and Susan wanted to know about everything that went on in the boarding school. Edmund was quick to fill them in about their school lives.

"The teachers are strict," he said at once when Peter asked how the classes were. "They made Lu rewrite an essay about someone who inspired her because she wrote about Dad."

"So?" Peter said in confusion, looking at Lucy, who was braiding Susan's hair. "What's wrong with writing about that?"

"They said I couldn't write about someone who was dead," Lucy said, pulling Susan's hair so tightly Susan winced. "And everyone made fun of me."

"That's _ridiculous_," said Susan furiously. "Dad inspired us."

"I know," Lucy said. "But I heard Aslan."

A ripple of shock passed through the elder Pevensies; even Edmund hadn't heard about this. "You did?" they all asked at the same time.

"Yeah," Lucy said happily. "I heard his voice, in my head. I was nice to Wendy—that's the girl who's mean to me—and after she left I knew he was happy with me."

Susan felt her stomach clench. She wished Aslan were happy with her, too.

"…but it _could_ be worse, really," Edmund was saying. "It's not like they whip us when we disobey the headmaster."

"If they did…" muttered Peter, a warning in his tone.

"And the food's not bad," Lucy added. "Not like home food, though."

"I'm glad you guys keep a good face on things," Susan said, smiling wearily. "It'll make your days at school a little more bearable."

"Yeah," Edmund said, shrugging. "At least it'll be Christmas break soon."

"And Mum might be able to send you guys to school, too," Lucy said happily as she brushed Susan's hair away from her face. "Then we all would—" Suddenly she stopped dead, as her eyes fell on Susan's cheek. "Susan, what happened to your face?"

This question was so sudden Susan didn't comprehend it at once. "What?"

"I just saw it, in the light," her little sister said, brushing her little fingers on Susan's cheek. Her eyes were wide. "It looks swollen. It looks _awful_."

"Apparently she got _knocked_ _down_," Peter said, eyes narrowed, "by a _woman_ at the _marketplace_. By _accident_."

"Well, I did," said Susan, glaring at him.

Edmund got off of Peter's bed and came to inspect. "Your face _is_ swollen," he said, as though his opinion was needed to make the fact true.

"It…it…" Suddenly Lucy's eyes got wider. "Su…it looks like you got _hit_."

There was a moment of dead silence. Suddenly Peter leapt off his and Edmund's bed and crossed the space to the other bed in instants. "Let me see," he said in horror, cupping her chin with his hand so he could turn her face toward the light. Susan winced.

"Your face didn't hit anything," Peter said slowly. "Something hit _you_…."

Susan took deep breaths, looking at anywhere but her siblings. Another period of silence passed in which Lucy and Edmund looked from each other to Peter so Susan in confusion.

"Susan," Peter said quietly after minutes had passed.

"It's nothing, Peter," muttered Susan, horribly aware that Edmund and Lucy were gazing at her. She turned to them and tried to smile. "Peter overreacts, doesn't he? I was just outside one day and—"

"_Susan_." Peter put both hands on her shoulders and glared at her. "Our siblings are here. And you are going to explain to them—and me—what happened to you."

"I told you what happened to me," whispered Susan.

"_Susan_!" She looked up at her brother and with a jolt of her heart, she saw tears filling up Peter's eyes. "Tell us. Please tell us. Tell us the truth."

Susan looked at her younger siblings.

"What's going on?" said Lucy timidly. Her eyes were filling up

"What happened to you?" Edmund asked in a quiet voice.

_You are remaining silent…you think it is shielding your family…but the truth is that it is only hurting you…_

Susan sighed and put a hand to her swollen check. Her throat started choking up.

"Did someone hit you, Su?" Lucy whispered. "When everyone was gone?"

_I need you to be strong, Susan_…

"When?" Edmund said, shock spreading over his face. "Susan, what's been going on when we were at school?"

_Remember that my faith in you never dies._

"Who did it?" Peter asked softly. "Who hit you?"

_My queen._

Susan took a shaky breath.

"Byron," she whispered. She closed her eyes so she didn't have to see her sibling's faces. Tears started sliding down her face. "Byron did it," she said, voice breaking. "Byron did it."

000

Later as she lay in bed Susan vaguely thought of how horrid it was, that she had to tell the awful truth the night her siblings came home from school. Beside her, Lucy wouldn't stop crying. That wasn't how it should have been, her first night back home.

"Lucy…" she whispered quietly. "Please don't. Please don't cry, Lu…"

"I c-can't bear it," she wailed into Susan's shoulder. In the other bed, Susan heard Peter and Edmund throw off their covers and sit up. "B-Byron is s-such an awful man…he c-came and _abused_ you…."

With telling her siblings what had happened came a huge relief; however, Susan regretted that she had told them everything Byron had done to her, not just him smacking her in the face.

"I know, Lu…" murmured Susan. The light flickered on and Peter and Edmund sat down on their bed.

Peter's face still hadn't regained its color. His mouth was clenched—he hadn't said a single word yet—and his eyes were wide—not with anger, as Susan had expected, but with sheer astonishment, possibly sadness. Edmund, however, was livid.

"We should have known," he said for the hundredth time. "We should have known he would do something like this. Ever since that day he was gawking at her—"

"Hush, Lu, or you'll wake Mum up," Susan said as she and her younger sister sat up in their bed. She put her arms around her. "Edmund…just stop, okay?"

"He can't _do_ that," Edmund snarled. "He can't just come and put a knife to your throat and expect you to let him touch you—"

"I _know_," Susan cried, as Lucy made an attempt to stop crying. "God! Do you see why I didn't want to tell you?"

"Does M-Mum know?" Lucy whimpered as she raised glittering eyes to Susan's face. Her cheeks were streaked with tears. "Could she c-call the police?"

"Byron would know, honey," Susan sighed, hugging her tighter. "We can't tell. We can't tell _anyone_."

"Do you honestly expect us to keep quiet about this?" said Edmund loudly; Susan quickly hissed, "Shh!" and he lowered his tone. "Byron doesn't deserve to walk around as though he's done nothing wrong, let alone own our _house_."

"Ed, I _know_, okay?" said Susan desperately. "But we can't tell. We can't."

"Why—"

"Ed! Please just be _quiet_, please?" Susan looked over to Peter, who was staring at the bedpost as though frozen. "Peter?" she asked fearfully. "Please say something."

Peter slowly turned his head to look at her. He had a perfectly blank expression on his face—other then the horror in his eyes.

"We're not telling anyone," he said, speaking for the first time in ages.

Susan stared at him, dumbfounded. "What?" Edmund demanded.

"We," said Peter clearly, "are not telling anyone."

"But—"

"Not _yet_," Peter said. He looked from Susan to Lucy to Edmund. "In Narnia, what happened whenever we declared war on another country?"

His siblings just gazed at him, speechless. Peter rolled his eyes and sighed heavily.

"The _highest_ of queens and kings of Narnia don't know besides me?" he asked incredulously.

"They fought back," Edmund said, looking at Peter with furrowed brows. "The other country did."

"Exactly," Peter said. Determination was filling his eyes now. "Now tell me, what happened when we snuck up on those countries who threatened us, and got them surrounded before sounding the attack?"

"They _couldn't_ fight," Lucy said quietly.

"Why?"

"Because they were surrounded," said Susan, starting to realize what her brother was getting at.

"So…?" Peter said, looking at them all, "if we tell that Byron abused Su, he'll find a reason to kick us out of our house, right?"

"Or worse," Edmund pointed out.

"But if we wait until we're moved out and away from him, wouldn't it be easier to go to the police and tell them _then_, and also add in the fact that he's been cheating our mother on rent money and that he burned down our neighbor's house last summer?"

"But what if he comes back?" Lucy asked, pushing her hair back from her face. "What if Byron comes back and tries to…tries to hurt Su again?"

"He won't," Peter said firmly. "I'm quitting my job. Susan won't stay out of my sight for more then a minute for the rest of the time we're living in this house."

"Peter?" Susan asked gently, looking at him with concern. "Are you okay?"

"Oh, I'm terrific," Peter shot out at her. "Yeah, I'm just great. Our landlord sexually abuses my sister—"

"Peter—"

"—as though you were something he _owned_—"

"Just calm down."

"Then like Ed said, he expects you to keep quiet about it!" Peter said, voice breaking off in a mutter because Lucy pressed a finger to her lips. "Byron's a bloody—"

"Shut up," Susan said quickly before he finished the sentence. "I know. I _know_. I should have said something."

"God, Su…I can see why you _didn't_." Peter put his face in his palm. "I just…I can't believe…I didn't expect something this bad—"

Susan reached over and put her hand on his. "I know."

"I should have stayed home," Peter muttered into his hand.

"No," Susan answered him softly, "you shouldn't have. This isn't your fault."

"Of course it's my fault." Peter looked up. "I should have been here when he came."

"Don't blame yourself," Edmund said swiftly. "I hate it when you do that. The only one who's at fault here is that rat bastard."

"Ed!" reprimanded Susan, nodding to Lucy. "Choose other words."

"We could have been here, too," Lucy said quietly, having not taken notice of Edmund's language. "Instead of at school."

"Everybody just stop it, okay?" Susan said in irritation, fighting back tears now. "What happened happened, so you all can stop blaming yourselves! If you want to _do_ something we can at least figure out how we're going to get Byron in jail."

A moment of stunned silence occurred once she had stopped speaking, then Peter put his hands down from his face.

"You want to tell, now?" he asked, eyeing her with an expression of something like pride on his face. "You're in on our plan to capture Byron?"

For fleeting second Susan saw Aslan's eyes, heard his voice, felt the warmth of his nose against hers. "Yes," she said softly.

Lucy gripped Susan's fingers with her little hand. Her face was still wet with tears but she had forced herself to stop crying; she gazed at Susan, eyes full of such a powerful love and faith Susan's heart melted over. She hugged her little sister close to her and smoothed her hair.

Edmund half-smiled; he was still angry but he apparently chose to keep his mouth shut. "We won't stand for this, Su," he told her, and his voice sounded so soothing at that moment. "We're not letting Byron get away with this."

Susan reached for him with her free arm, and he instantly scooted over to her and Lucy to hug her. She kissed the side of his head and the top of Lucy's. "Thank you," she whispered to them.

Her younger siblings didn't answer her, because they didn't need to. What they didn't say said it all for Susan; all of what wasn't said as she held them for so long seemed to mend the wounds that Byron had given her.

Peter looked across their siblings' heads at her. In that once glance, Susan saw a question in his eyes, a certain begging for forgiveness that seemed to be tearing him apart on the inside. And by looking back, by staring into his eyes that were filled with devastation, Susan gave him his answer.

He silently scooted over the few feet to her, Edmund, and Lucy, and moved the hair out of her face, something he used to do all the time when they were six and seven years old. Susan leaned on his shoulder as Peter wrapped his arms around her and Lucy. Edmund, who had always the withdrawn one, shifted closer.

For the last few months Susan's heart had been so heavy. After it had gotten over the shock of losing her father it had sunk down, down into the depths of her soul with little hope of it being lifted up again. It had been battered and beaten by Byron; it had retreated into a dark, protective silence and she had thought it would stay that way. But as her siblings leaned into her, all of their hands intertwined, she felt her heart peaking out of its isolation; she felt it lift and hover over its usual gloomy place, rising slowly up to where everything was bright, to where her siblings were tenderly pulling her.

She closed her eyes. And at that moment, she was sure she felt a warmth spread through her body, not unlike the warmth she had felt days before, and she heard that voice, so loving and strong, in her head.

_My queen_.

As her heart burst through the darkness for the first time in a long time, Susan finally understood why Aslan had wanted her to tell; maybe singing the secret song inside of her could be the very thing to do that would keep faith – and her heart – up in the light after all.


	14. Chapter 13: Home Together

**Okay…I know it's been since last May that I've updated this, but I hope that you guys will still remember what's been going on and still enjoy reading! I'm so sorry for taking so long; I expected to update much sooner than this but I have some good excuses; read the end of my latest chapter of _Flight or Fight _if you are curious as to what sort of reasons those might be. ;)**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

By the time all four of them were awake the next morning, Helen was gone, leaving behind a note under the sugar bowl on the table: 

_I'm leaving early so I can tell our landlord we will be moving out of his house soon, then I'll be at work as always. With luck, by the time I arrive home today, I'll have a specific date of our leaving and some options as to where else we might be able to go. I'll see you all tonight! – Love, Mum_

"Well, that's good, then," Susan said cheerily as they stared at the letter.

No words were spoken in response to this, so she walked over to the kitchen and pulled out the loaf of bread, intending to start the toast. Lucy tiptoed over to the cabinets to get plates, looking around at her elder siblings as she silently placed them onto the table. Peter and Edmund glanced at each other, then to Susan, then back at each other again before sitting down noiselessly.

The silence was so loud Susan could barely take it. "Someone please say something," she murmured, and three pairs of eyes flickered toward her. Lucy's filled with tears.

"Are you…do…I mean—do you feel better?" she asked rather timidly, looking at Susan in anguish. "At all?"

Susan bit back the lump in her throat. "Of course, Lucy. I'm fine." She managed a small smile. "You and Ed are back with us for a little while, you know. That makes everything better."

Peter exhaled loudly. "I hardly think that's what she meant, Su."

"We really don't need to talk about this, do we?" asked Susan quietly.

Peter looked up at her, looking stricken. "No…no…. I didn't mean…." He shook his head and didn't finish the sentence.

Edmund spun his plate around with his finger. Lucy turned quickly to the counter and focused on preparing the bacon, placing each strand of meat in a pan on the stove with care.

When breakfast was cooked they silently picked at their plates, looking at their food and not each other. Edmund finally sighed with irritation.

"I'm bored," he muttered. "I hate school. I hate this house. And I hate not being able to go anywhere!" he burst out.

Peter and Susan glanced at each other. Lucy looked up silently, eyes wide.

"We'll be out of this house soon, Ed," Peter said, looking at his younger brother sadly. "We'll be able to go out on the streets or to lakes again before long. Mum said she was going to B—to him…today."

"And school…" Susan said, "it can't be that bad."

"It can," muttered Edmund, glaring at his plate.

"You might be out of there soon," Susan pointed out. "You'll probably go back to your old school before you know it."

"Yeah, well…give me one good reason why I should be happy in that place in the meantime," Edmund said unhappily.

Lucy reached over across the table and put her hand on Edmund's. Her eyes were alight with devotion. "You've got me."

Edmund quickly looked up at his younger sister; Susan saw his eyes fill with tears that he rapidly blinked back. He squeezed Lucy's hand and looked back down to his plate.

"Yeah…I do," he said gruffly.

Another ringing silence settled down on the table; again no one looked at each other and when eye contact occurred they looked away from one another instantly.

"Will you and Susan come back to school soon?" Lucy asked after awhile, raising her eyes to Peter.

"Perhaps," Peter said to his fork. "I don't know."

"I'm sure we will," Susan said, smiling. "At least, I hope so. Home schooling isn't that much fun, not when you're home alone all the—"

She stopped abruptly, realizing she had said the wrong thing. Again that awkward silence dominated the four of them; again all eyes went to the food.

Peter suddenly threw down his fork.

"This is ridiculous," he said angrily, ignoring his siblings' jumps of surprise. "Su's been abused and we're sitting here pretending like it never happened. In Narnia we'd have at least six plans of action ready by now!"

Susan just looked at him. "Well, considering that we're sitting here as four kids rather than four kings and queens…"

"And we don't exactly have an army at the ready," Lucy said.

"Okay, okay. But we'll be out of here soon and we need to do something before things really get out of hand."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Edmund demanded. "You said last night that we'd have to wait until we moved out of here before we could frame Byron, right?"

"Yes," Peter said, "but shouldn't we start getting a couple more details as to what we're framing him for, besides what he did to Su?"

"Burning down our neighbor's house, cheating Mum on rent money," Susan said, ticking off the offences on her fingers, "practically barging into our house uninvited, breaking and entering when…when there wasn't anyone home b-but me…."

"Byron wouldn't dare come here again, right?" Edmund asked. "You'll be here, Peter, won't you?"

"Damn right I will be," growled Peter. Susan threw a bit of toast at him, nodding to Lucy and her delicate ears, but Lucy, as per usual when her brothers used rough language, didn't seem bothered.

"What if we told Mum?" she asked, looking around at the table. "Then couldn't she tell the police?"

"We've been over this," Edmund said. "We've got to wait until we're out of here before we can call the police. Byron will find reasons to kick us out of here—"

"And we'd have nowhere to go unless Mum's boss decides to give us our own house," Peter finished unhappily. "Right."

"So we're just going to wait?" Lucy asked.

Peter looked over at Susan, as though asking for permission to answer. Susan nodded slightly and he relaxed. "Yes. We wait until we're out of here before we tell."

"What if Mum finds out?" Susan asked softly. She couldn't see her mother agreeing to stay silent about such a thing; in fact, the very idea of telling her what Byron had done to her made her insides churn.

There was a moment or two of silence.

"Then," Peter said, just as quietly, "we'll tell her why we can't call the police until we're gone."

Susan sighed. "I suppose if Aslan meant for her to know soon—"

"What?" Edmund asked instantly. Lucy's eyes lit up at the mention of the name and Peter said, "Aslan?"

Susan realized she hadn't enlightened her siblings on who had appeared at her bedside all those days ago. Quickly she told the story; when she had finished Lucy was vibrant with joy, Edmund looked awe-struck and Peter looked almost as though he was trying to remember something he had forgotten long ago.

"Aslan," Lucy breathed. "Oh, Susan...you actually saw him..."

Susan felt her smile fade. "I did," she said softly. "He wanted me to tell you guys what had happened instantly but…but…I was afraid. I couldn't do it…not at first." Her voice shook slightly. "Do you think he's disappointed with me?"

"I think he would say that what is done is done," Edmund said, smiling slightly. "And that there's no need to speak about what has past."

Susan smiled back at her younger brother, remembering where the phrase had come in the first place. "Yes, I suppose you're right."

"I wonder…" Peter murmured thoughtfully, looking at Susan but obviously not seeing her as he was thinking too hard, "I wonder if he would think that us not telling Mum about all this is the best idea."

There was a pause.

"Well," Lucy said, glancing around the table with a hopeful expression that Susan realized, with a pang, she had missed so much, "I think that whatever is to come will come no matter what, and what happens then will have happened for the best."

Susan felt her heart unclench; she felt the weights of silence lift from deep inside of her. For the first time in ages she was able to offer a smile that wasn't strained to her little sister. "And that is exactly why, my love," she said to Lucy, feeling more alive than she had in ages, "you are called the Valiant."

She almost didn't see it coming—Lucy moved that fast. Before she could even think Susan felt her sister's arms around her neck and her little body flung onto hers.

"Oh, Su!" Lucy choked out before she broke down, falling apart completely yet seeming more loving than ever before as she did. Susan wrapped her arms around her sister and let her sob, even starting to cry herself—from what, she did not know. Peter and Edmund glanced at each other, looking thoroughly confused.

"Have the girls gone mad?" Edmund asked seriously, and Susan and Lucy started to laugh through their tears.

OOO

When Helen blew back through the door that night, sure enough, she had a bag of groceries, a huge smile on her face, and happy news.

"I do believe it's starting to snow," were her first words; all of them rushed to the window to look out; sure enough, a gentle white powder was slowly falling from the sky. Lucy laughed out loud with happiness and Edmund let out a whoop. Peter and Susan started questioning their mother instantly.

"What did he say?"

"When are we moving?"

"Are we going to be out of here soon?"

"Did you find any other homes?"

"Easy, you guys," laughed Mrs. Pevensie, eyes bright with joy. "Let me sit down first, at least. My goodness! You four look so much happier when you're all together! Why on earth aren't you making each other angry like normal siblings?" she added teasingly.

"Because we aren't normal," Edmund said, turning from the window to his mother as Susan helped Helen out of her coat. "So? Are we moving soon?"

"Yes," Mrs. Pevensie answered and the four of them yelled in delight. "Yes, as soon as our lease is up. When I talked to Mr. Byron today he wasn't keen on letting us go earlier, but he's agreed to let us move out after Christmas, given that he has another tenant to take our place."

"Will he find another tenant by Christmas?" Peter asked.

"He thinks so," their mother said lightly. "In the meantime, we can start looking for another house. Perhaps one near the house we used to live in; that way you four could go outside every now and then."

"Will we be going back to school?" asked Susan, half afraid to hear the answer. "Because I'll understand if we—"

"I'm sure it will be possible," Helen smiled at her, and Susan felt her heart soar. Lucy let out a delighted cry and seized Susan's hands happily; Susan let herself be danced around the tiny shack as Mrs. Pevensie picked up the groceries again and Edmund and Peter followed her to the kitchen, Edmund still firing off questions, Peter helping her unpack the food. By the time dinner was ready Helen had received a detailed description of the house Edmund was looking for.

"And can we please have separate rooms this time? I don't mind sharing with the girls but I hate having to go into the bathroom just to dress and undress every day. And if we could have a bigger backyard…or any at _all_…that would be great—"

"You've really had it with this old dung shed, haven't you, Ed?" Mrs. Pevensie asked softly as they all sat down at the table, and Edmund flushed.

"Well…it's just…it's not…I liked our other house better," he muttered as he backtracked. "But I'm not ungrateful that we even have a home!" he added defensively, and their mother smiled.

"I never doubted that," she said simply and they all began to eat.

Halfway through dinner she brought up another subject that they had avoided for a while.

"There's another bit of news that I received today," Mrs. Pevensie said in a quieter, more serious tone then she had used before. "I got a telegram today at work."

Susan felt yet another heavy silence unload onto the table as they all recalled the last time they had received a telegram.

"What was it about?" Lucy asked.

"It regards your father," their mother said, looking at her plate carefully and twisting her napkin in her hands. Something inside of Susan froze up; by the looks of her siblings' faces, something had gone cold inside them, too.

Their mother spoke on.

"The…the bodies of the deceased are being shipped to their families; I've given the address to the London cemetery so that we might plan your father's funeral."

No one spoke.

"It's been months, children. I do believe it's time that we give him our final blessings and…and…" Her voice shook and she quickly reached up to wipe under one of her eyes. "And set him to rest," she finished in a more collected tone. "What do you think?"

"Would…would we have to see him?" whispered Lucy.

"No, no, of course not, dear. I want you to forever remember your father as he was before…when he was alive, I mean. I think we could plan a nice funeral, don't you think?"

"He deserves one," Peter said gravely and for a split second Susan saw a flicker of Peter the High King in his expression. Then she blinked, and it was gone.

"He does," Edmund said, almost as quietly as Lucy. He looked at his plate and focused on dividing his chicken into exact pieces. For a while no one said a word. The idea of a funeral sounded so final to them; knowing that their father was dead had been quite enough for them. It would be a whole other story to see it permanently established as a fact they would have to live with for the rest of their lives.

Suddenly their mother laid down her fork.

"I don't know why he was taken away from us, my loves," she said quietly to them, "but I do know this. He wouldn't want us to sit and mourn him and refuse to live the rest of our lives because he was gone. Your father would want you four to laugh and play and mess around like you used to. Not sit and hate how everything turned out."

They all glimpsed each other uneasily.

"Everything is going to be fine," Mrs. Pevensie said gently to them. "Even if things don't seem that way now."

When Susan glanced around the table again she saw that Peter, Edmund, and Lucy were all looking toward her direction. She knew what they were thinking; she herself was thinking the same thing.

It was going to be rough telling her mother what had happened with Byron, after all that they had already gone through. But Susan knew, just by looking around at her siblings' faces, that she wouldn't be alone when that time came.

OOO

Peter and Edmund brought their pillows over to the girls' bed that night—something either they or Susan and Lucy did when the four of them needed comfort beyond anything words could give. The tradition had started when Susan, aged three, learned how to climb out of her crib and walk clumsily to Peter's bed whenever shadows or a particularly bad thunderstorm spooked her during a night, and Edmund and Lucy had caught on quickly as they grew up.

Peter often snored while Edmund kicked in his sleep and Lucy mumbled in hers, and Edmund informed Susan that she usually rolled over to the middle of the bed so that none of them had any room. They all had wars over the covers that resulted in violent pillow fights, battles that usually ended with a mutiny of some sort (and all of them had spent their fair share of nights sleeping at the foot of the bed). And in the mornings Lucy, always the first one to rise, would get off the bed, get a running start, then pounce on the remaining three in order to thoroughly awake them. But when it came down to the four of them just lying together, talking or simply listening to the quiet breathing of one another, Susan felt more at peace than she did anywhere else. Now she smiled and her heart swelled happily as she curled up between Lucy and Peter, yawning with tiredness but not wanting to sleep.

She knew her siblings sensed that she did not want to talk about anything she had told them the night before; sure enough the conversation was steered entirely away from those dangerous waters.

"Whoever's keeping the blankets to themselves better give them up right now," came Peter's voice from Susan's left and Lucy shot back,

"Why give you any? You'll drool on them like last time!"

"I'm cold," Susan said, playing her part in the script they had crafted so many years before. "It's Edmund. He's keeping all the blankets to himself."

"I am not!" came Edmund's indignant reply as they viciously tugged at the covers, pulling them away from their younger siblings. "And if you—hey! Now I don't have any covers!"

"Deal with it," Peter told him smartly. "Or you're not getting any sweets tomorrow."

Edmund gasped. "No...no...no sweets?" he whimpered, pretending to be horrified. Lucy started to giggle. "You _wouldn't_!"

"Oh, but I would," Peter answered back. He had one hand on the pillow he and Susan were sharing so when Edmund's pillow flew through the air and landed on Peter's head he was ready; Susan and Lucy grabbed their pillows from the foot of the bed and battled whoever was nearest to them as war broke out.

"Hey!" Lucy yelped as Peter cuffed her in the shoulder, mistaking her for Edmund. Susan whispered, "Shh! Or we'll wake Mum!" even as she helped her brothers tickle Lucy furiously with their pillows, the four of them laughing together for, Susan realized after a while, the first time in a very long time.

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**Well, this chapter spent so many months in the making I was almost ashamed to post it, seeing that it wasn't that great of a chapter as far as action goes, but here it is, and I hope you guys have enjoyed reading it.**

**Thank you so much to those of you who have stuck by this story for so long and who (hopefully!) continue to give me reviews; you guys are amazing. And I don't forget the anonymous reviewers! Even though I can't personally reply to you all, know that your comments and bits of advice are appreciated.**

**I can't promise when I'll have the next chapter ****for this story ****ready; hopefully the wait won't be nearly as long as the last. ;)**

**Please review and once more, thank you guys for your patience – it means a lot to me.**


	15. Chapter 14: Beyond Sudden

**Argh… someday I'll be able to post these chapters on time… /sigh\ well, anyways, here's chapter 14 – please review and enjoy!**

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_Thud! Thud! Thud!_

In an instant Susan was jerked awake so that she instantly forgot she had ever been asleep. Three other bodies started from slumber around her and they all lay apprehensively, half sitting up and half lying down, as they tried to figure out where the noise had come from.

"What the—?"

_Thud_! _Thud_! _THUD!_

Uneasily confused, the four of them looked around at each other; Susan saw that her siblings' faces were white and groggy with sleep.

"It's someone at the door," moaned Edmund suddenly and the others gasped as the horrid noise came again—and this time they recognized it.

They heard the other bedroom door open from across their little shack and then came swift footsteps that went from the room to the front door as the pounding came yet again.

"Oh," they heard their mother murmur, then they heard the door hinges squeak. "Mr. Byron. What a surprise!"

Susan gasped as though icy water had been thrown over her head; before she could think Edmund was out of bed and charging for the door but Peter tore over his sisters in desperation to reach him before he got out.

"No!" he hissed, blocking Edmund's way. "Wait!"

Edmund glared at him but he paused with Peter at the door as Lucy edged closer to Susan out of nervousness and they all heard Byron speak.

"I'm sure you know why I'm here, Mrs. Pevensie," they heard Byron's cold tone shoot out, though his voice didn't chill them so much as the sound of the door closing did. "I expect that you've—"

"I don't remember inviting you in, sir, and I certainly don't remember giving you permission to shut that door behind you as you came in." Mrs. Pevensie sounded slightly nervous but her tone held steadily.

"As your landlord I have full right to entering this household as I please." Lucy shivered in Susan's arms and Susan held her closer; Peter and Edmund looked at each other uneasily. "You know why I am here?"

"No, I do not."

"I'm aware of the fact that you and your children are moving out of this house within the month, but I was unaware that you would refuse to give me the amount of money I specifically asked for in return."

"I don't know what you are talking about, Mr. Byron. Our lease is up after Christmas and I have no obligation to you or this house afterward."

"We are not speaking of afterward, Mrs. Pevensie, we are talking about _now_." Byron's tone gave Susan chills. "You haven't paid me what you owe, and now I have come to collect it."

"I have paid you everything I owe, and still more!" Their mother's voice skyrocketed and the four of them jumped in shock. "There is nothing else to discus with you, sir, and I ask that you leave this house immediately."

"I thought I made it clear that I have access to this house whenever I please," was Byron's deadly reply. "This is for you, given to you as a tenant, from me as your landlord, and I expect the bill to be paid within the week."

There was the sound of a ripping envelope. "What is this?" cried their mother in shock. "There are no damage fees to be paid! I don't owe you any of this money!"

"Landlord," Byron answered easily, and Susan could almost hear the satisfaction in his tone. Edmund made to open the door but Peter swatted his hand away.

"What do you expect to do?" he hissed as Helen began to stammer anxiously. "If we just start yelling at him we'll make it worse for Mum. We can't just barge in there."

"Neither can he," snarled Edmund but again he stayed still.

"…ridiculous amount of money for nothing in particular!" Helen was wailing, sounding near tears. "You cannot _possibly_ ask me to—"

"I've had enough; you are expected to pay that total or I shall make sure you never have a home again," Byron said cuttingly and Susan remembered the night of the fire back in the summer with a horrid shudder. "And I suggest that you keep a civil tongue as you talk to me." They heard his footsteps on the ground as he walked toward the front door. "You have no more manners than your daughter."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Mrs. Pevensie gasped; if panic had been in her tone before, terror had taken its place now. "What are you talking about?"

They heard Byron turn around; Susan felt her heart beating rapidly.

"Your eldest daughter," Byron said frighteningly, "takes after you. She showed me no manners when I came to this house weeks ago, looking for you."

Their mother didn't speak; no one breathed in the bedroom.

"I would be very careful with your words if I were you, woman," Byron continued in the same deadly tenor. "Otherwise I might see fit to punish you as I did your daughter."

Lucy was shaking; Edmund was frozen to the threshold but Peter turned around and met Susan's gaze; there was so much devastation and guilt in his eyes that Susan looked away from him almost in alarm, her heart aching.

The door closed swiftly and none of them moved; their mother was silent as the grave in the next room. Suddenly she let out a sort of strangled cry and they heard her footsteps across the ground as she ran to the door and latched it; then she came charging into the bedroom—nearly shoving Edmund to the ground—with tears steaming down her face and horror in her eyes.

"My God…" she gasped as she seized Susan and clutched her so tightly Susan felt her lungs contract. "What did he do? What did he do?" She began to sob and her terrified tone launched Susan into tears; she laid her head on her mother's shoulder and wept bitterly; Mrs. Pevensie wailed again, "Oh, Susan, Susan, what did he do to you?"

Lucy sniffed quietly and hugged her knees, fighting tears. Edmund crossed the room and wrapped his arms around her and Peter stayed with his hand on the doorknob, face frozen. Susan swallowed back the sobs aching to escape from her chest as she answered her mother, summoning the strength she thought had left her. In her siblings' eyes she saw the same thing that she was thinking: waiting was no longer an option.

OOO

None of them had known that the police could act so quickly.

Mrs. Pevensie had phoned them the instant Susan had finished talking and they were at the tiny shack within the hour. When the cars pulled up every person walking about on the Pevensies' street practically sprinted away before the officers could even open their doors but the police didn't seem concerned; they walked right up to the house where Helen was waiting in the doorway, eyes still red and cheeks still somewhat wet.

"Oh please, please come in…this is utterly urgent…thank you so much for coming—"

"It's nothing, ma'am, nothing at all," one of them answered. He was one of two men who now stood inside their shack; Lucy quietly took one or two steps nearer to Peter and Edmund stood a little straighter. Susan felt her stomach twisting in anxiety. "I assume you are Mrs. Pevensie?"

"Yes. I reported a man named Byron not one hour ago—"

"Yes, ma'am. Overcharged rent fees, entering your home with no warrant, assaulting your daughter—"

"Yes, yes…I don't know where he is now…. He came by my house not too long ago and demanded entry and he implied he had done s-something awful and…and she just told me now—"

"Is that young lady here with us?" asked the other officer kindly, looking over to where Peter and Edmund stood protectively in front of their sisters.

"Yes, sir…Su? Come on, love—these gentlemen want to question you…."

Susan's stomach lurched at the thought of repeating all she had said before but Peter and Edmund parted slightly—and somewhat reluctantly—so she was clearly visible, and she had no choice. She walked tentatively toward the police officers and her mother, all three of her siblings giving her hands supporting squeezes as she left their sides. Helen glanced over at them while she took Susan in her arms.

"Why don't you three just wait in your bedroom, hm? We'll call you if we need you."

"So…my, what a pretty girl we've got here, huh, Joe?" one of the officers said, smiling warmly at Susan.

"Mm-hm," the other officer said in agreement. "What's your name, love?"

"Susan Pevensie, sir."

"Sit down, dear," Mrs. Pevensie said soothingly, pulling her down on the couch next to her. "And please, gentlemen, make yourselves comfortable…and you three! Get yourselves next door. Go on!"

Susan turned back to look at them. Edmund looked a little disappointed about being shooed into the bedroom but he nodded at Susan encouragingly; Lucy offered her a little smile. Peter met her gaze and the gentleness and support in his eyes raised her spirits so that she found a smile within the muscles of her cheekbones. Then they were gone, withdrawing into the bedroom, as the officers sat down opposite Mrs. Pevensie and Susan. Joe and his associate were pulling out notepads.

"All right, Susan, we're just going to ask you a couple of questions, all right? I know you've been through quite a lot all ready—"

"But this is going to help us with convicting the man who has assaulted you," the man called Joe finished in a calm tone. "This will be over very soon, all right?"

Mrs. Pevensie placed her hand over hers and Susan found herself grasping it. Her mother's fingers were smooth and cool.

"All right," Susan said quietly. She knew her siblings were in the other room with their ears pressed to the door, and she smiled again at the thought. They were only one room away…just one room away. "Ask away."

OOO

When the officers called back that night after dinner their news was beyond heartening: Byron had been found and he was officially and inescapably in prison.

"Just like _that_?" Susan kept badgering her mother as the five of them sat on the couches drinking tea in their pajamas. "Mum…that's all it took? And he's jailed?"

"Love, why didn't you tell us this sooner? Of course that's all it took! Byron is labeled as a criminal for his actions—all we had to do was speak up." Mrs. Pevensie stirred her tea quietly. "I just…I wish I had known sooner."

Susan looked down at her feet. Edmund nudged her gently and shot her a supportive half smile. "Just think; we'll be out of here soon," he said, breaking the somewhat awkward pause that had risen. "And then we won't have to worry about him."

"True," Susan said softly.

"How did they find him?" Peter asked. Lucy was half-asleep on his shoulder. "Did they find out where he lived?"

"Apparently he doesn't live too far from here," Helen said. "His home is by an old homestead where some farmland is. The bombs destroyed some of the fields about a year ago but he must have been able to build a home around there. I think the police went searching and they must have seen him walking outside somewhere."

"Some luck," murmured Edmund.

"Indeed," sighed Mrs. Pevensie. There were bags under her eyes. "Susan…I know…I know it's difficult now but…but will you promise to tell me these things in the future? Susan, something much, much worse could have happened…and—"

"I will, Mum," said Susan solemnly. Peter had drawn her aside and gently asked her the same thing not four hours previously; even as their mother spoke he was looking over toward her, as though wanting to hear her pledge her word again. "I promise."

Mrs. Pevensie smiled, even though her eyes didn't quite match what she was trying to convey. "Good."

"Are you sure he's locked up?" asked Lucy as she fought a yawn, looking over to her mother anxiously. "I mean…he won't be getting out any time soon, will he?"

"Of course not," Helen said; somehow her smile seemed strained. "Listen, children. In a few weeks we're going to be out of this awful house and we'll live in some place a lot nicer than here. Peter, Susan, I'm sure next year you two will be able to continue with school… at a schoolhouse, I mean; I know you both have been working hard to keep up even if you're not going to classes. And… and as for you younger two—"

"Will we go back to our old schools?" Edmund asked hopefully.

"I'm sure I'll be able to manage it," Mrs. Pevensie said quietly as the clock struck nine. Everyone's eyes flickered toward it and Edmund and Lucy made no move to get up, even though nine o'clock meant bedtime for them.

"Well," Mrs. Pevensie said simply and the younger two, sighing, went over and kissed her goodnight. As they headed toward the bedroom Susan couldn't keep back a yawn. Her mother looked toward her.

"Perhaps you should turn in a little early, love," she said quietly and Susan agreed that she was a little tired.

Peter smiled at her though his face remained weary, and Mrs. Pevensie hugged her closely.

"Sleep soundly, all right? All is well," she told Susan and Susan kissed her cheek. As she glanced back at her older brother, she saw his face—tired but still noble nonetheless—and she couldn't resist giving him a hug as well.

Peter hugged her to him more tightly than their mother had.

"See you in the morning," he said to her quietly, kissing her forehead. "And when that time comes we won't be woken up by anyone knocking the life out of our door."

Susan smiled. "I have a feeling Lucy won't miss her chance to wake us."

Mrs. Pevensie chuckled quietly as Susan headed for the room; she was well accustomed to hearing her three elder children's yells of protest whenever Lucy decided that the only efficient way to rouse her siblings was to pounce on them. "Goodnight," she called and Susan answered her softly before shutting the door. Her younger siblings were already in bed and she willingly lay down next to Lucy in their bed, heaving a huge yawn and closing her eyes as she pulled the covers up to her.

"You know what, Susan?" whispered Lucy, turning on her side so she could face Susan. Susan smiled at her little sister's drowsy eyes.

"What, Lu?"

"I think you were wonderfully brave today."

Susan felt her face flush. "I wasn't, really. I was just telling the officers what Byron did."

"It must have been so hard, Su." Lucy yawned, then smiled sleepily. "Aslan would be proud of you. I… I know I am."

Not entirely sure what to say, Susan reached out and touched Lucy's nose lightly with her index finger. She felt her throat ache with tears. "Aslan blessed me with an angel for a sister," she murmured, and Lucy's face lit up as she curled herself up next to Susan and closed her eyes. Susan put an arm around her as Edmund called out a tired, "'Night, guys," and they answered him. After what seemed like an hour, she felt the covers around her being raised over so that only her face was out and she felt much warmer. She heard Peter's voice whispering, "Goodnight, little queens," before exhaustion overtook her, and she fell into a deep, blissful sleep.

OOO

It seemed like it had been seconds since she had laid her head down when Susan awoke abruptly to the crushing weight of a body on top of hers. She dimly understood it was Lucy trying to wake her up. "Ten minutes," she muttered as she blinked sleepily. To her surprise there was no light as there was in the morning; the room was dark and as she breathed in, she realized a foggy substance dominated the air.

"Susan, Susan! Get up! Something's smoking!" Lucy's terrified little voice—so different from the tone she has used as they fell asleep—was rapidly shrinking Susan's drowsiness. "I can hardly breathe!"

Susan swiftly sat up in her bed and she could barely make out her little sister's white face in the smoky air. Something was wrong; it was hotter than usual—and it was wintertime, too—and there were horrid sounds all around them that didn't normally exist at nighttime. An awful and constant crackling was raging just outside their bedroom door.

"Oh, dear Aslan," Susan whispered as she realized what it all meant.

"Su, it's the house! I think—"

"Get up, quickly," cried Susan over the hissing. Coughing from the smoke, she and Lucy leapt out of their bed almost on instinct and pounced on their brothers. They were already wheezing slightly in their sleep, from the dirtied air.

"Edmund! Peter! Do get up…get up quickly!" Both sisters frantically shook them awake even as they groaned in objection. Edmund swatted his hand as though trying to ward them off.

"Have you girls gone mad?" Peter heaved a huge yawn as he looked upwards. "Go back t—" He paused for a brief moment, and then sat up so quickly Susan fell off of him.

"Good God! There's smoke in—"

"Get up!" screamed Lucy, and Edmund bolted upright as well.

"Fire!" he shouted and as the four of them ran for the door, flinging it open desperately, they realized with a horrid start Edmund was right.

The flaming monster was taking over everything. Cackling, spewing, blazing over the wooden floors, it cast flickering shadows everywhere that made the shack seem so unreal, so changed from what it had been before.

Lucy gasped with dismay—an act that caused her to cough terribly, and Peter pointed to the front door.

"That way!" he shouted over the noise, seizing Lucy's hand. As the four of them charged for the front door they saw another huge shadow that was fighting their way toward them. Amid all the uncertainty they heard their mother shrieking at them frantically.

"_Get out! Get out, hurry_!" Her words were cut off by her coughing from the smoke and the roaring of the fire that was taking over their home. Lucy and Susan both screamed as a huge fiery chunk of wood from the ceiling crashed downwards and onto their couch, blocking their mother's way to the front door.

It was madness. The heat was beyond unbearable and their breathing was a labored chore. Edmund yelped as part of the flames snapped at his arm; Lucy looked near collapse from the smoke.

Peter turned to Susan.

"I'll be back," he cried frantically. "Get Lucy and Edmund out, Su—now!" he shouted and he started fighting the blaze to reach Helen, who was desperately leaping this way and that, trying to escape the flames.

"Peter!" Susan screamed after her brother but her bewildered and exhausted mind registered that she had a task to do; she knew it more than she realized that Peter was leaving her in the entire mess, even as the heat intensified and the air grew too foggy to see through.

Peter was shouting out to Mrs. Pevensie and Edmund and Lucy were trying to follow, unable to see where they were going. Something clicked in her brain and Susan reached out for her younger siblings.

"No, not there!" she cried. "Follow me—the door's this way!"

They mercifully listened to her. As they started forward Lucy shrieked with pain as part of the blaze grabbed at her foot, and Edmund and Susan both caught her before she fell.

"Where's Peter?" shouted Edmund frantically. They could barely see each other, let alone their older brother, and Susan cried out that she didn't know.

"We need to get out!" she gasped and they dodged through the monstrous fire before they ended up at the front door. Her hands were shaking so badly she could barely unlatch it.

"Edmund—Lucy's hurt! Get her outside!" The door was open; Susan pushed her siblings through it. Edmund turned around, horrorstruck as he realized what she was doing, but Susan shoved him and Lucy, who was leaning on his arm, out into the night.

"Go!" she shouted and another beam that was holding up the roof crashed not three feet away from where their bedroom was. "_Get_—_out_—_now_!"

She was doubling back even through her heart was beating faster than it ever had before, and sweat trickled down her skin. She wasn't thinking anymore. She could do nothing but pray that her younger siblings had listened and were outside, and that her elder one was somewhere nearby; she looked around desperately to no avail. "Peter!" she screamed. "Mum!"

The fire was roaring more than ever and she could barely hear herself let alone her family. She screamed their names in horror, tears mixing with sweat on her face, coughing and gasping even as she fell on her knees from the ghastly air. Her skin was burning so that she could not distinguish whether it was the soldering heat from the blaze or the fire itself that was burning her. "Peter!" she cried out again weakly.

Through the haze, shadows were materializing in front of her. One was taller and leading the other, while shorter figure limped behind, hobbling to keep up.

"Susan!" She felt her brother's hand on her shoulder. "Su!"

There was so much terror in his tone Susan felt her own alarm increase. She tried to answer but instead of forming words she could only cough.

"God, Su… don't… scare me… like that!" Susan looked up at him and she saw fear draining from his face, even though he was coughing horribly. "Where are—?"

Suddenly her mother was down next to her. Her cheek was horribly burned and there was fright controlling her eyes.

"Edmund… Lucy!" she managed to cry out through her wheezing. "Where—?"

"They're out… outside!" Susan coughed back and her brother pulled her to her feet.

"Get out… door—hurry!"

Through the fire they heard numerous voices, shouts and neighs and shrieks and bangs and splashes that would have thoroughly confused them had they not been so desperate to get outside. They instinctively rushed toward the commotion, leaping one way to avoid one more falling beam and jumping another way from the greedy arms of the fire. As they reached the door and as the three of them spilled out of their flaming house Susan saw where the noise had been coming from.

The entire street was full of people; most of them were still running either away from or toward the house. There were firemen, some lugging a huge hose, sprinting toward the house to them. Horses lugging the fire engine were tossing their heads and nickering nervously while people all around shouted and yelled and pushed and shoved. And through it all Susan could not see Edmund or Lucy.

"Stay—" she heard her mother choke out and then the words were gone, gone as the crowd and the noise and the confusion of people trying to drag her away from the house separated her from her family. There were reporters and firefighters and other people who looked like they wanted to help and still more who were running away, exiting their homes in terror of the fire that had engulfed hers. Fear took over Susan's body. She knew none of these people.

"Mum! Peter!" she screamed but her voice was just one of hundreds, unheard by anyone else. "Edmund! Lucy!"

She ran frantically through the crowd, still coughing violently and trying to get away. Her family was nowhere to be found and every face she saw was unfamiliar; terror was rising in her even as she continued to scream hysterically for her siblings and her mother….

And then she saw him.

She saw the man who was supposedly in jail, who was there in the middle of the crowd with a lighter in his hand and greed in his eyes, standing so still despite all the commotion that he could have been a statue. He was looking at her, and only her.

Susan stared back in horror, she, too, standing motionless as she looked back at the man she had been assured would never harm her again….

Byron.

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**I hope you guys forgive the ending; I think it was a little rushed, myself, but your opinion is yours alone!**

**Sorry to leave you guys hanging; the next chapter is brewing in my head even as I type this but unfortunately my time is so limited now I'm afraid it might take a while to update. However, as always I will update as soon as possible!**

**Thanks for reading this far, and I'm sorry to say that this story is drawing to an end as well as _Flight or Fight_. I'm not sure exactly how many chapters there are left to post—but there are at least three more after this, so don't worry yet. :D**

**Thanks again, and don't forget to drop me a review! Reviews are appreciated! ;) **


	16. Chapter 15: Further Change

**Okay, here's a heads up: this chapter gets a little intense but hopefully no one will be too bothered; in fact, the beginning of this chapter is the idea that inspired this entire story (don't ask **— **my mind simply works in crazy ways when it comes to writing. :D).**

**Enjoy!**

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She ran.

She did not need to look back to know that he was after her, she didn't need to understand exactly what it was she was running from; instead she threw every ounce of her mental power into getting herself away from the man who was now mercilessly perusing her.

It was funny, really, how unaware she was as she dashed away, how she didn't know where she was going or what it was inside of her that was spurring her aching body onward. It was odd how the crowds gradually faded until she could hear her footsteps on the pavement and her own frantic breath catching in her throat. No thought or realization seemed to even remotely touch her mind. Nothing was anything besides emotion—and to her all that was anything in those moments was sheer panic.

Susan didn't know that she had cornered herself inside an alleyway until she nearly smacked into the brick wall that connected the two rather narrow sides. In her terror she whipped around to bolt out through the way she came, but Byron was already blocking her path, halting and panting a little, eyes glittering in the eerie darkness.

"Whore," he hissed and Susan, shivering, could see half of his face by the faint moonlight, his skin sharpened by the shadows that settled across it. "You stay where you are."

Susan threw every caution she knew of to the winds as she charged forward frantically, hoping against hope that she could dart past him and get herself out of the passageway. She cried out when he roughly caught her around her middle and flung her against one of the side walls of the alleyway. Terror utterly seeping through her, Susan tried to claw past Byron and push herself free of him even as he pressed himself against her so that her back was to the wall. She screamed as his arm swung out and contacted with her cheekbone, and again when he tried to slap her but ended up scratching at her chin and her lips. Her pajama top ripped across her shoulder as he grabbed onto it and as she tried to pull away; in the darkness she felt warm blood oozing from her lip.

"Make another sound and you're dead," came the low growl and Susan let out another cry—barely audible this time—as his hands left her waist and moved upwards, reaching under the ripped fabric of her clothing and fingering her bare skin. Gasping as she had apparently forgotten how to breathe properly, she lunged forward again and his hands were off of her momentarily, but only instants later they grabbed her middle again and he kicked at her legs, knocking her feet out from under her. She fell onto the pavement and her forearm seared as the skin broke from the force of the fall.

Byron was on top of her before she could think.

"I have a knife," he rumbled dangerously, his hot breath on her neck, and Susan shrieked as he exposed the shiny metal; at her cry he sheathed the knife quickly and he clamped a filthy palm over her mouth. With his other hand he was ripping at her clothes, pressing himself closer and closer so that Susan could barely breathe. Petrified, she bit down on the skin that covered her mouth as hard as she could and forced her numb legs to kick at him; he roared and lifted off of her slightly and she took the chance to shove his hand away and scramble backwards as fast as was possible. She was only able to get a foot or two away from him before he grabbed at her ankle and tried to pull her back.

Susan was crying out again, trying to form her screaming into words but she didn't know what words she was trying to use. Byron thrust his hand on her shoulder and pushed her back down again and held her there. He grabbed at the knife handle with murder in his eyes.

"Stupid whore," he hissed at her again as he raised the glittering blade just above her. "I said if you made another sound…."

But before he could strike her—and his arm was coming downwards at his last words—an enraged scream shattered the air around them, and suddenly another force crashed into Byron at blinding speed. One instant Byron had been above her; the next second he was being wrestled to the ground a good six or seven feet away from her by a young man who was knocking the knife out of his hand and pinning him to the ground.

Susan, breathless, automatically scrambled backwards away from the two, unable to stand or even pull herself into a sitting position, unable to suppress a cry as her savior was knocked down; but with surprising strength he was back on his feet and smacking Byron's head against the brick wall so that he crumbled, rage in his eyes; within seconds Byron had his hands pinned behind his back and the young man attacking him crushed him to the ground. Both were yelling, Byron was swearing, but in the end her rescuer punched him fully in the face and Byron fell silent. Facedown against the pavement, Susan could tell he was unconscious.

Now the only sound was Susan's rapid gasping; she was lying on her side and trying to prop herself upwards with her hands, her mind too muddled to even consider focusing on anything else.

Her savior turned around and faced her. His eyes grew bright as he took in the sight of her; even in the dark it wasn't too hard to miss her ripped nightgown, the blood on her face, her bare skin where Byron had ripped at her clothes. He stood up, limping slightly, and walked over to her.

Susan was trembling; her arms could no longer support her upper half and they crumbled beneath her, but before she fell against the ground she felt strong, familiar arms holding her and laying her down gently.

"Su?"

Susan lifted her eyes to her savior. Her heart was beating harder than normal and it started drumming faster in her chest as she took in the terrified look on his face.

"Peter," she managed to say, and her world went black.

OOO

When she opened her eyes again, for a split second Susan thought she was back at her house, the house she had grown up in, before they had received the telegram, before the war has started. But it was so cold, too cold… faintly she thought that Lucy must have taken the covers again. Or perhaps the fire hadn't been lit downstairs yet….

She blinked, trying to understand why her face was throbbing and why her body felt so sore, then she gave a giant start as she realized someone was above her, letting out a cry of fright and trying to scramble away.

"Su—Su, it's me, it's all right," came Peter's desperate, anguished voice. "You're okay… dear, God, Su, everything's all right…."

Still breathing rather quickly, Susan tried to pull herself upwards and this time—with Peter's help—she was able to accomplish the task. "B-B-Byron," she chattered, her breath coming out of her mouth like steam. "Where…?"

"Back in the alley," Peter said, sounding as though he was forcing himself to remain calm. "He's… he was still unconscious but I didn't want to take any chances… I just… I got you and ran away from there and I set you down for a second just now and you woke—" He stopped, running a hand through his hair. "He's not here," he concluded.

Susan nodded, wincing as she did. Peter turned to her again.

"We need to find our way back," he murmured. Susan nodded once more even though her cheekbone and jawbone felt like they had caved in, and tried to get to her feet. Nothing seemed to work; she stumbled and nearly fell onto the pavement again as her right ankle ceased to hold her weight. Without a moment's delay Peter scooped her up in his arms, carrying her as easily as he carried Lucy, and began walking quickly, taking great care not to grip her too roughly or jostle her at all as he did.

"He followed me." Susan felt the sudden need to explain herself. "He… he followed me and trapped m-me in there and he tried to… tried to…."

She knew she didn't have to finish the sentence from the gentle look her elder brother gave her; instead of talking she closed her eyes, wincing as her cheek gave another throb and as blood continued to trickle from her lips, resting her head against Peter's arm.

"Where are we going?" she heard herself asking and she was surprised when she didn't get a reply. "Peter?" she whispered.

"I don't know," he answered her softly, and he set her down carefully onto a clump of grass that stood in front of an abandoned house. He looked around—and Susan did, too—at their bleak surroundings. The houses and the other nearly torn apart buildings were made larger by the starlit sky. Everything was either in shadows or bathed in moonlight, and somehow that made everything all the more peculiar.

"We're… we're kind of far from home," Peter stated eventually.

Something shuffled into place in Susan's mind.

"The fire," she murmured and she felt her brother's soothing hand on her shoulder.

"They were putting it out," he told her softly, staring at where the horizon would be had there not been houses blocking its sight. "The house is destroyed, obviously. But Mum and Ed and Lu were fine—I saw them a second before I saw you."

Susan sniffed as quietly as she could and tried to wipe the blood off of her chin and the tears off her face. The redness had seeped downward and was staining her slashed pajamas. Peter looked at her and his eyes grew wide again with horror. The moonlight was shining on her, illuminating every wound she had, and Susan realized that Peter had truly seen the damage for the first time.

"Dear Aslan," he whispered and he sank down in the grass beside her. Susan determinedly rubbed at her skin to try and clear the blood, even as her forearm was smeared in it, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks.

"I'm okay," she offered unsuccessfully, as Peter was already tearing at his shirt, pulling apart the bottom of the fabric so that he had a sort of bandage. He ripped it in two, picked up one of the halves, and took her arm in his hands.

"Hold still," he said and his voice trembled. Susan extended her arm for him as he wrapped the material around the wound. Once it was tied Peter took the other bit of cloth he had ripped, and gently stroked the rest of the blood off of her face, cautiously pressing on her bruised cheek.

"Are you all right?" Peter murmured and Susan saw him blinking back tears. "He didn't… I mean… he—he didn't do anything… that is, besides…?"

Susan shook her head and he visibly relaxed, but his eyes still held pain, her pain.

"I'm fine," she found herself whispering. He gave her one anguished look before he flung his arms around her; she buried herself into his comforting embrace, clinging to him like her life depended on it. She was shaking, but not from the cold, even though the air was fierce and her breath was like steam; her trembling was from the realization that had just occurred to her exhausted mind, the knowledge of what it was that had almost happened back in the alley.

Her fright was so great that she began to sob, not caring about how the side of her face and her forearm were throbbing or how sore her entire body felt. Still trying to make sense of anything at all, she buried her face in her brother's neck and cried, Peter clutching her to him as though frightened to let her go. There were no words exchanged between them; instead Peter stroked her hair and wiped away her tears with his thumbs.

The hours in which their mother had told them of her happy news seemed like light years away now. Susan laid her head on Peter's shoulder and closed her eyes when she had no energy left to cry. Even in the darkness she could still see Byron; she could still feel his body weight on top of her, and she shivered violently. She realized she was falling asleep after what seemed like hours, but glittering eyes and knives that shone in the moonlight haunted even the idea of slumber.

OOO

When Susan woke it didn't really seem like she was awake; there were blinding lights everywhere her eyes rested and the sky wasn't so dark… her ears were filled with the sound of talking and shouting and senseless noise. Distantly she thought she heard Lucy's sobbing and her mother's horrified tone and Edmund's frantic demands, but everything that had ever been real to her once was now an isolated memory, like something that had never existed previously.

Subconsciously she realized that she was being lifted up from the ground; she shut her eyes against the increasing brightness but she couldn't shut her ears. The noise went on and hurt them dreadfully, piercing through her brain like daggers, and she started to hear words amid the entire racket.

"… dear God… hadn't we—?"

"No, she's alive… breathing at least—"

"… wouldn't have… sure he didn't…?"

"… be okay, Mum? … bleeding awfully…!"

"… tried to rape the lass, by the looks of it…"

"… in jail just today? … Escaped unless it was—"

"Give her room… her brother's got her all right…"

"… hospital?"

"… in the alley off of the street the bakery's on, the boy says…"

"Yes… should still be there…."

Susan couldn't suppress a small groan as someone pressed down on her wounded forearm; she opened her eyes as though she was in a daze but she couldn't tell who was next to her. Her head spun and her stomach twisted in on itself from nervousness. Her body ached; she felt as though knives, Byron's knives, were slicing every part of her.

Then she heard the most welcoming sound she could have ever asked for in such a situation as hers at that moment: Lucy's soft, tender voice close to her aching head.

"It's all right, Su…" Susan felt light fingers tracing her bruised cheek. "Peter's just going to put you in the ambulance. Mum and all of us are taking you to the hospital."

"You'll be okay," came Edmund's tone. Susan opened her eyes again and this time she made out her two younger siblings standing next to her amid all other sorts of people peering and talking and running around them. Lucy was crying; Edmund simply reached out and took her hand, eyes grief-stricken and face set. Susan tried to gather her cheek muscles into a smile for them but it hurt even to do that.

"Excuse me, I need to get through…." Susan recognized Peter's voice. He was carrying her through the crowd while Lucy and Edmund followed closely, politely pushing people aside as the siblings made their way through men and women and all sorts of reporters that were trying to crowd nearer. Susan shivered closer to her brother as the cold began to overtake her skin, and moments afterward her mother's face appeared close to hers.

"Oh, my dear… everything will be all right… we're just going to get along to the hospital and it will all be fine…. Peter, be careful with her… she's horribly bruised—"

The next thing Susan knew was that she was being gently placed on her back against something cushioned and soft; as she shut her eyes once more she heard a door slam, and to her relief most of the earsplitting noise slipped into muffled haze. The surface she was on shook beneath her slightly as the car's engine started and as the car started puttering away.

"Get her warm, she's white as death," came her mother's whisper and instantly Susan felt blankets being placed over her. She tried to remember why she hurt so much…. When the memories started coming back, she let out a small cry and opened her eyes, her heart beating with fear.

"Oh, love… you're all right now…" Susan saw her mother and her three siblings gathered around her, faces filled with anxiety. Mrs. Pevensie was reaching forward and leaning over her, tears in her eyes. "There's nothing to fear now… we're just going to take you to the nurses and they'll fix you up—"

Susan felt her racing heart ease slightly, but she still couldn't stop shaking. Lucy had her hand in hers, tears streaming down her soot-stained face, and Susan saw graying bandages surrounding her left ankle.

"Oh, Lucy, what happened to your foot?" she whispered.

"The fire," Edmund said simply, answering for her.

"It's all right… it just hurts a little bit," Lucy said softly. Susan winced as she tried to pull herself upwards; Helen pushed her back down on the cot where she was lying.

"Try not to move right now, all right, sweetheart?" Mrs. Pevensie gently rubbed her thumb against the dried blood on Susan's lip and jaw. "We'll get you all fixed up, all right?"

The ambulance jostled slightly as the car hit a bump; everything shifted for a moment.

"How did he get out?" Edmund asked suddenly; to Susan's surprise he sounded like he was about to cry. "Mum… I thought he was locked up. How did he get out?"

"Please let's not talk about that right now," Mrs. Pevensie hissed at him but Edmund kept going.

"He was supposed to be away from us forever," he said and his voice broke as tears started leaking from his eyes. "And he—he just got out… just like that… a-and he could have really hurt her…."

"_Could_ have?" Peter burst out and his face was scrunched slightly, as though he was barely holding back all he had been feeling the entire night. "He already _did_. You… you don't know what it was like… getting in that alley and seeing her… and him—"

"Quiet, you two," whispered Mrs. Pevensie soothingly and Susan closed her eyes again. She heard Lucy let out a choked sob but Susan still wasn't thinking clearly; she didn't comprehend anything except how much everything hurt…

"Rest now, darling," she heard her mother say in a quiet voice, but Susan opened her eyes.

"What about the house?" she questioned weakly but her mother shook her head.

"Don't worry about that now. Everything's going to be fine."

"Where are we going to live?"

"Easy, lovey." Mrs. Pevensie stroked Susan's hair. "Let it go."

Susan drew in a deep breath and closed her eyes again.

"Mum?" she heard Peter ask and she knew by his tone that he was crying. "Mum… I… I'm sorry, I… I should have… I should have gotten there sooner—"

"Hush," their mother said gently but her voice was faint as Susan silently surrendered, letting her overwhelmed mind shut down for the forth time in a short period—though to her, it seemed like years had passed since she had laid her head on her pillow next to Lucy—and she sank into unconsciousness once more.

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**I know this is rather dark, but Susan's all right, of course; she's just still in shock. It won't get any worse than this, I promise. :D**

**So, I've got one more week of school and unfortunately that includes finals, and since I just started a new job I don't know when this next chapter will be up. I'm not 100 percent sure whether or not the next chapter will be the last, but there's a good chance of that, just to let you guys know. So in that case... only one or two more chapters to go, you guys! SO CLOSE!**

**Thank you all for sticking through with me and this story for this long – I value your reviews more than you know and I appreciate you guys so much!**


	17. Chapter 16: Silver Lining

**Well… here's chapter 16 (or 17, depending on whether or not you count the prologue as a chapter). I have to confess that I cried as I wrote the end of this – I hope none of you will be reduced to a puddle as I nearly was. :D**

**Enjoy!**

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The instant the coldness seeped onto her skin, Susan felt truly awake for the first time in a while; even before they were out of the car she started to shiver. Peter gently scooped her up again, and Lucy and Edmund covered her in blankets in his arms while Mrs. Pevensie paid the driver.

Soon enough Susan saw they were being herded toward a big, gray building the car had stopped in front of.

"I can walk," she said, trying to keep her teeth from chattering.

"Not yet, dear," answered Helen as they walked through two oaken doors into a room where women in white were bustling around with packages and clipboards. Two nurses instantly headed toward them.

"Pevensies, correct?" one of them asked and Mrs. Pevensie affirmed that the five of them were expected.

"All right… dear, why don't you set your sister down…? We've got a wheelchair around here somewhere—"

"Can she walk?" the other nurse asked as Peter carefully placed her into the chair offered.

"Of course I can," Susan murmured but she wasn't heard, as there were other nurses and doctors hurrying over and looking her well over.

"Yes, but I'm afraid she's rather weak right now," Helen answered for her, glancing around at them. Lucy was now leaning on Peter slightly as she tried to keep the weight off her wounded foot. "And the others… there's been a fire… and—"

"Yes, all of the children will see treatment," the first nurse said gently, taking in the sight of the four of them. "Your eldest daughter especially. I'll just be seeing them into separate wards and you yourself could use some checking in…."

Helen nodded and at once the other nurses approached them, immediately beginning to separate the family. Lucy tried to walk forward but her foot caused her so much pain that she stumbled badly fell forward; Peter caught her and a doctor suggested calling for another wheelchair.

"That won't be necessary," Peter told them quickly before Mrs. Pevensie or anybody else could speak; Lucy was already rounding on the doctor who had made the suggestion. "I'll carry her."

The nurses shrugged as Peter swiftly picked up a now reproachful Lucy; as they were led away Mrs. Pevensie asked the nurse if her eldest son couldn't stay with her little twelve-year-old girl so that she wouldn't be frightened and they agreed somewhat reluctantly. They moved behind Susan to push her chair—despite her protests—and handed Mrs. Pevensie a wad of forms.

"Mum?" Susan asked tentatively, her heart beating with alarm at the idea of being alone with so many unfamiliar people. "What…?"

"They'll look after you, love; I'll see you in just a little bit," Mrs. Pevensie told her with a small smile, kissing her white brow. "Nurse… be gentle with her, please? She's been through quite an ordeal…."

"Where are they taking me?" said Susan frantically. Straight away four or five people tried to explain and comfort her at the same time but Susan found she was shaking with fright, jumping whenever someone tried to touch her. "You're scaring her!" came a frustrated cry from a doctor and another one asked, "Will she let us treat her if she's like this?"

Amid it all another nurse gently took Edmund's arm. He shook her off with a scowl, glancing over at Susan.

"I'll stay with her," he told them, speaking over the fuss everyone was making.

"No, dear, let the nurses fix you up and then we can all stay in Su's room, all right?" Mrs. Pevensie said distractedly as she filled out forms, worry lines clear on her face.

"Come on, sweetie… let's get you cleaned up," the nurse trying to take Edmund's arm said, determinedly cheerful. "Your sister will be fine by herself."

"No. Lucy's got Peter so I'll stay with Su until you're done with her, and you can wash my face off or whatever where she is, right?" Edmund asked hotly. The three nurses in the room sighed. Mrs. Pevensie bit her lip.

"Edmund, please just—"

"You'll visit your sister," another nurse interrupted, as though Edmund was a persistent toddler, "as soon as we're done with her. She'll be perfectly fine without you there, won't you, sweetheart?" she added, looking over at Susan. Susan couldn't stop trembling; she cried out with alarm as the nurse squeezed her shoulder in what she obviously thought was a comforting manner. Edmund frowned and there anger in his eyes.

"Yep, she'll be perfectly fine, all right," he said sarcastically, his tone like steel. He grabbed the wheelchair's handles from the nurse. "There's nothing wrong with me and I want to stay with my sister. She's nervous. She needs comfort."

"No, she needs attentive treatment, dear. You won't be able to stay with her."

"Watch me," growled Edmund and he pushed the wheelchair resolutely through the crowd; Susan felt relief spread through her as the room with the nurses fell away and as she heard Edmund's low voice.

"Stupid doctors," he was muttering. "I should think they would be smarter than to try and touch you…treating you like a bloody experiment…."

Susan heard Mrs. Pevensie sigh again and quietly ask whether or not her other daughter could have company. Susan didn't hear their response because a doctor came trotting up beside her and asked Edmund to wheel Susan into a room on their left.

Susan let them wash her face and bind her forearm; she felt pricks in her arms as they gave her two or three shots and she clenched her fists from pain as they pinched her jaw line, looking for any infected areas. Edmund watched the doctors like a hawk; he refused to leave Susan's side even though he was glanced at wearily several times, and he shouted at anyone who looked as though they were pushing too hard on her wounds.

"Could you try being gentler?" he snapped once at a brutal-looking nurse who was taking Susan's pulse. "Can't you see she's in pain? Would it _kill_ you to loosen that strap thingy just a bit?"

"We've got several _other_ patients who need our care more than she does," the nurse retorted as she tightened the thick blank band around Susan's wrist without a care; Susan bit down on her lip so she would suppress a cry of pain. "And let me assure you that—"

"Tighten that strap again and I'll tighten that collar around your neck," spat Edmund. The nurse glared at him.

"One more threat out of you and I'll kick you out of here," she hissed.

"Your job is to get my sister _out_ of pain," Edmund said with fury in his tone, "and mine is to make anyone who brings her pain suffer."

"You—"

"Loosen that bloody strap or I swear I will strangle you," Edmund snarled; the nurse jumped and looked up at him in surprise as she heard the deadliness of his tone. "Don't think I won't."

The strap was loosened. After the nurse left—muttering angrily under her breath—Susan found she had no strength to speak, but she squeezed Edmund's hand with the energy that she had left. Edmund looked at her and shrugged.

"Yeah, well, I could see your pulse _stopping_," he muttered but Susan kissed his fingers gratefully anyway.

OOO

Save for Edmund, her family slipped out of her view most of the time. The rest of the day went by in chunks; she was convinced her family was next to her at once point then the next she swore was alone. She heard her mother constantly and the doctors and nurses talked all around her, and the brightness of the room she was in wielded her eyes shut.

After what seemed like hours had passed she opened them again and blinked; Edmund was still there, but Lucy and Peter were with her as well. They were whispering to one another but when they saw her stir they silenced instantly, looking over to her.

"Hello, sleeping beauty," Lucy said cheerfully. Susan looked around; she was lying in a bed. Lucy was sitting by her side; Edmund and Peter hovered close by.

"Was I… was I asleep?" Susan asked groggily. "In… in the…?"

"Yeah… it's about six o'clock," Peter told her, sitting down opposite of Lucy and peering at her in concern. "You're still in the hospital. Mum went to buy dinner."

"Buy… dinner…." Susan strained to sit up so her back was to the pillow she was using; to her enormous relief she was able to do so. "But… we have… we have nothing—"

"Oh, yes, we do," Edmund said with a grin, looking fit to burst from excitement. "Mum's boss is taking us in. She's paid our medical bills and she… get this. You know how Mum sold a lot of what we had before we moved?"

"Yeah…"

"She got it back," Lucy said, grinning.

"All of it?"

"No, no… just some of it," said Peter, gently pushing back some of her hair that was falling in her eyes. "She found a chair or two, and a couch, and some of our silverware, and other things. And we went to the burnt shack and we got a bunch of things that were covered in the ruins."

"Besides, Byron's paying us," Edmund said, his eyes dark at the mention of the man's name. "He's in jail, by the way. And Gusler, too."

"Gusler…" Susan was finding it hard to comprehend the information they were giving her. "Who…?"

"Byron's brother-in-law," Peter said. "Remember? I used to work for him."

Susan blinked. "Yeah."

"He got Byron out of jail," Lucy said softly. "Both of them apparently owe us quite a bit of money because of… for what they've done."

Susan looked around at her siblings. She realized that their faces were tense and white… they were looking at her as though she was about to break apart… like _they_ were about to break apart. She could just see the tears welling in Lucy's eyes.

"Nothing happened," she told them bluntly, and she found that she was chuckling at the shocked looks on their faces. "He didn't do anything to me other than… well. So you can stop looking like I'm about to break into a million pieces or something."

"Su," Edmund said quietly, "we just… we were…"

Susan waited but he didn't finish the sentence.

"We know you're not… not harmed or anything, Su," said Peter, making an attempt to smile. "We're just concerned."

"Are you… do you feel okay, that is?" Lucy asked and Susan sensed uncertainty in her tone. "I mean… you looked awful before so we were… you _do_ feel all right, don't you?"

"Of course," Susan answered smoothly, sitting up a little more and wincing slightly as her body protested. Her siblings eyed her suspiciously but said nothing. "You said… you said Byron's back in jail, right?" she went on, shuddering as a face came to her mind as the name came to her lips.

"Yes," Peter and Lucy said with satisfaction at the same time and Edmund nodded. "He's finished, Su," he told her, eyes fiercely content. "They moved him to a jail outside of England. Gusler is being tried in London."

"They were working together all this time," said Peter, frowning. "The police told Mum and she told us: after I quit the job Gusler gave me, apparently he and Byron started trying to figure out how to draw as much money out of us as possible and… and…."

"Secure you," Lucy said quietly.

Susan felt a chill settle in the pit of her stomach.

"Me," she repeated faintly.

"Yes," said Peter, suddenly looking older than his seventeen years. "And when Mum wasn't giving Byron enough money… by _his_ standards," he added darkly, "he and Gusler decided to do what they did to our neighbor's house to ours."

"Burn it down?" Susan said in amazement.

"That way they could build again and rent it for more money," Lucy explained. "And we would either be dead or homeless."

"And if we were homeless," Edmund said, "it'd be a lot easier for him to get his hands on—"

"And so the point of the matter is," Peter interrupted loudly, "both of them are history. And the money they've stolen and cheated for is money we're getting back."

Susan just stared at them. The information they had given to her seemed to be sitting idly on top of her brain rather than sinking into it; she was finding it difficult to fully grasp everything they had just said.

"So we don't have to live in that horrid shack anymore," Lucy said brightly, smoothing down the blankets next to Susan. "Won't it be wonderful to have a decent house again?"

"Wonderful," murmured Susan, biting her lip as her forearm gave a nasty throb. She lifted her arm and touched the bandages lightly, willing the burning to stop.

"Should we get the nurse?" Edmund said quietly and Susan looked up at them again. They looked as though seeing her in pain brought pain to their own nerves as well.

"No," Susan said rather sharply, "so you lot can stop acting like I'm about to drop dead."

The three of them exchanged weary glances.

"Please?" Susan begged them, hating herself for sounding so pathetic. "I'm fine."

Her siblings turned back to her with bottomless expressions. "We're sorry, Su," Lucy said, tone very soft. "We didn't mean to upset you."

Susan looked at them. Even as her mind swarmed and various parts of her body throbbed from wounds, within the strained lines of Lucy, Edmund, and Peter's faces she faintly made out an elegance she hadn't seen before; she could grasp a faint shadow of something she had seen in them so long ago… _so_ long ago…

She found that her vision was getting blurry and that hot wetness was leaking from her eyes, and it took her a second to understand that she was crying. _Why would I be crying_? she wondered silently as she gazed back at her siblings, watching as tears started streaming down their faces as well, wetting their cheeks but not washing away the nobleness in their expressions.

She found that she could focus on the gentle light that fell from their eyes; she found that she could concentrate on the strength that was still etched inside of them and what they were now trying to bring back to her. A strength, she realized, that they had carried inside of them since they had reigned as Kings and Queens at Cair Paravel.

And then, out of nowhere…

_They had never left Narnia._

The thought struck her like a lightning bolt, completely numbing her body and her mind. Her siblings had in no way left.

Never.

They had departed in body as well as she had, but in spirit… they had never truly left their land. Their minds were still living, recalling—while she was still lagging behind in disbelief and in the facts of harsh reality. All this time she had lacked everything her siblings were composed of; all this time she had ached and pined for a land—and a father—she thought had been lost… while they had _remembered_, while they waited with undying faith for a call to come.

She had kept a secret from them; she had undervalued the bond the four of them had shared so long ago. As that knowledge sunk in, her throat ached and tears kept on pouring down her face; Susan reached forward with her hands as though to gather her siblings toward her, trembling as she began to sob.

"I'm sorry," she choked out and their faces filled with confusion. Crying harder, desperate for them to understand though she had no words to say what she wanted to, she shook her head and looked to Edmund to Peter to Lucy, feeling as though her heart was slowly shattering. "I'm s-sorry… I c-can't… I-I'm sorry… I'm so, s-so sorry…."

Peter, as always, understood first. His eyes filled with compassion as her apologies dissolved into her tears so that even she couldn't make out the words. Her brother silently held his arms out as though scared to touch her without permission; instantly—to his visible relief—Susan melted into them.

"Su," he said as he hugged her tightly, in a tone so gentle Susan sniffed and tried to stop her crying so he would continue. "You're here with us now. We just lost you for a little while. You're here now."

Understanding dawned on Lucy and Edmund's faces; Edmund silently sat down on the bed with the rest of them, looking at her intently.

"I d-don't think I am, though," Susan said quietly, unable to keep her voice from shaking. "I… I'm just—"

"Aslan hasn't forgotten Queen Susan the Gentle," said Lucy, eyes full of a love that shone through her tears, "and neither have we."

With a start, Susan realized that the little flutter her heart gave at her sister's words was one of happiness.

"Really?" she whispered, hope wild inside of her.

"We can't all be perfect, Susan," Edmund said, the corners of his mouth twitching as though he remembered a time he had thought otherwise. "How can we, anyway? We all do what we know how to do at the moment we're in."

Susan smiled, thinking that her brother's words were those King Edmund the Just would have said. She wanted to say more; she felt the need to speak and explain things rise within her momentarily, and yet it was clear that putting it all into words would be impossible.

But as she looked from Lucy to Edmund to Peter, she realized that at the moment she was in now, she wouldn't ever have to.

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**Wow, you guys… this is it. We have one more chapter of this story to go (and that will be the epilogue) and it will be over!**

**I'll be updating (as usual) as soon as possible – but this time, for this last little bit, I am going to try to make it sooner than usual for you faithful readers. ****Please review -- as always I appreciate your comments! **

**Thank you all for sticking with this story for so long.**


	18. Epilogue: A Hope

**Well, I just have to say that if I cried while writing the last chapter, I certainly bawled for the making of this final one. :(**

**Enjoy the final chapter of _So Changed_****, everybody!**

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OOO _Three Weeks Later_ OOO

The flowers had been surprisingly easy to find. Even though the funeral was being held in the end of January, even though the sky was gray and the grounds were damp, the flowers still came in plentiful numbers despite their being out of season. Their vivid purples and reds and yellows and whites were a contrast to the dismal mood that was thickly lining the atmosphere, and Lucy took it to task to find the prettiest flowers of them all and place them in the buttonholes on Peter and Edmund's suits and in Susan's hair. Susan took one or two daisies herself and wove them through her younger sister's locks, the two of them laughing despite rather derogatory glances thrown toward them from others attending the burial service.

"Let them stare," Edmund remarked as the four of them stood slightly away from the crowd in the graveyard, their flowers clearly visible. "They think we're mad, anyway."

"Just because we aren't weeping all over the place like everybody else?" Lucy asked incredulously. The slight wind hosting the event rippled through her hair; a petal or two from the daisies in her curls gently floated away.

"Don't let it bother you, Lu," Peter said, smiling swiftly. "And anyway, I'm sure those old ladies and their daughters and granddaughters are just jealous because we've got the two loveliest girls in the world among us."

Lucy blushed at the compliment and Susan laughed. "The two coldest girls in the world, rather," she amended, for she and Lucy were shivering in their dresses, despite their new coats and mittens and hats. "And that's not something to be jealous of."

"So modest," Peter teased her and Edmund snorted. An elderly couple talking solemnly—apparently their great-aunt's daughter-in-law and her husband—glanced over at them with scowls. "Their own father," the four siblings heard the man mutter reproachfully as they walked away with their noses in the air. "And those children are acting immature."

"'Tis a shame the children hardly care," sniffed the old woman, then they were gone.

Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy looked around at one another as the two relatives faded from sight, the atmosphere between them suddenly darkening.

"Dad wouldn't want us to be sad, right?" asked Lucy quietly. "He'd be glad that we're not miserable like everyone else here, wouldn't he?"

Peter smiled at Lucy's intentness. "I think he would," he assured her, and Lucy's face brightened. "I think we've mourned for him too long."

"But that doesn't change anything," shrugged Edmund, looking at the ground. "He's still… you know. Dead."

"It changes our attitudes," Susan said gently. "I think Peter's trying to say that Dad wouldn't want us to be so unhappy now… and now is the time to move on. And Dad has inspired us to do that."

Suddenly Lucy began to laugh, her eyes shining as she covered her mouth, trying to stay quiet.

"What is it, Lu?" Edmund questioned, and Susan felt an urge to laugh herself. Lucy's joy was contagious when it was released.

"Remember Wendy? The girl in my class at our old school I told you about?" the girl said, still giggling. "She said to me once that Dad didn't inspire someone if he was dead. And I just remembered what I said to her after that."

"Which was—?" said Peter.

"That the term _dead _meant 'forgotten' to me," Lucy said happily. "But if I remembered him—he was still alive." She reached up and caught the daisy that had been slipping out of her hair, fingering the petals gently. "I wasn't sure if I even believed what I said then. But I do now."

Susan kissed her sister's forehead. "I'm proud of you, Lucy."

Lucy snuggled into her embrace. "You think Aslan would be, too?" she asked, hugging Susan tightly and quickly letting go when Susan winced. "Sorry Su… I keep forgetting…"

The siblings were silent again, pondering her question.

"I think that where we are now is where we're supposed to be, Lu," said Peter finally, "and Aslan would be pleased at… at how we're handling things."

There was a pause as the others nodded their heads in agreement.

"And do you think _they're_ pleased at how we're handling things?" Edmund asked innocently with his lips twitching, nodding toward their dramatic funeral guests.

"Oh, hush," Peter said, pretending to throw a punch at him and Edmund pretended to fight back, flailing his arm dramatically. Susan and Lucy laughed again while they saw their mother emerge from the crowd, making her way toward them while gracefully fighting off relatives with hankies.

"There you are," she said. She had a small, square package in her gloved hands. "I've been looking for you lot for ages…. We're all going to head back to Aunt Shirley's, just to let you know. She's serving early dinner before everybody heads back to the train station and before the five of us have to get back home."

"Why is it that we've never heard of any of these relatives and friends before and now they're suddenly swarming us?" Edmund asked.

"Because this is your father's funeral," Mrs. Pevensie answered him. "They loved him… of course they're going to come and pay respects to him."

"They don't seem very happy with us," Lucy said, brow wrinkled with anxiety.

"Oh, don't be silly," Helen laughed, tapping Lucy's nose. "And anyway… everyone has been so kind today. I've been receiving cash all day from your father's friends and our family. They all wish us the best."

"Did they give you that?" Peter asked, nodding to the package in her hands.

Their mother looked down and gave a little start. "Oh! I was going to put this by the grave… I'm afraid I haven't been thinking clearly—"

"What is it, Mum?" Susan asked.

"I found it after the fire," Mrs. Pevensie explained, smoothing down one of the creases on the wrapped thing. "It was buried under some of the pieces of wood. I… I thought that your father would have liked to have it, close to him. By the place where he's at rest."

"But what is it?" pressed Edmund.

Mrs. Pevensie opened her mouth but the small crowd was slowly shifting toward them, headed back up to where the cars were parked, and a woman came and touched their mother's shoulder before she could speak.

"Are you ready, Helen? We're just going to rally up there and figure out who's going with whom. Shirley's leaving to buy the food now."

"All right," sighed Mrs. Pevensie looking at the package in her hands. "This can wait for another time, I suppose."

The four siblings glanced at one another. "Can we stay here?" Peter asked, speaking for them all. The relatives were shuffling past them in various states of mourning, headed up the hill toward the cars. "I mean, you can go back to the Aunt Shirley's and we can be home by dark…"

Their mother was nodding. "If you would like to," she gave her consent. "But make sure you're warm. It's rather cold out right now…. Oh, and children, since you're going to stay would you put this by the gravesite for me? I'd do it myself but I suppose I've got to run…"

She handed the square-shaped parcel to Peter. "You can set it down into the ground… and put it right against the tombstone, all right? Just so it doesn't blow away?"

"What—?"

"Here's a few dollars…." Their mother reached inside her coat and handed some folded bills to Susan, "for your fare home. And stop by the marketplace and get yourselves some hot chocolate, all right? I don't believe the shops have run out of milk yet."

"Can we look at what we're putting by Dad's grave?" asked Lucy.

Mrs. Pevensie smiled. "You've seen it before," she said, eyes crinkling with warmth as she drew them close to her and kissed their cheeks. Instead of hurrying with the crowd she stayed there for a moment or two, looking at them silently.

"Be safe, all right?" she asked them, and they nodded. "And be back home by six. Our new landlord is dropping by the house to make sure nothing needs to be repaired and I'd like you lot home by then. Just in case you see something I don't." She kissed them again and was about to walk away before she stopped and turned back.

"Oh, and Peter, Susan? Remember I want you to be packed by tomorrow night. The train leaves for the schools on Tuesday and I want you to have plenty of time to get ready."

"Su's already packed, Mum, and I can be ready in about an hour," Peter said.

"We'll be fine," Susan reassured her, "and besides, Edmund and Lucy's things won't be here from their old school until Monday."

"And we can pack fast, don't worry," added Edmund and Lucy nodded, seconding this.

Mrs. Pevensie smiled. "I won't worry anymore," she said softly, and she hurried after their relatives, stopping at the top of the grassy hill to blow them a kiss and to mouth, "I love you," before vanishing. The siblings waved after her as the wind picked up again slightly; soon their relatives and their father's old friends disappeared over the hilltop with their mother, leaving the four of them alone in the grassy, empty gravesite.

It was quiet. The wind rustled the nearby trees quietly, swishing Susan and Lucy's dresses and their hair; above them the gray sky swirled as the clouds drifted, but otherwise nothing else moved or made a sound. It was such a peaceful silence that lingered after the chatter of the funeral crew that none of them could find the motivation to say anything for a long time.

"Well," Peter said finally, looking down at the package in his hands, "I suppose we had better get this done."

The other three nodded, rousing themselves as though they had been in a trance, and they set off together back toward their father's grave, where the coffin had been lowered not one hour before.

Their father had been given every honor a dead soldier could have received. British soldiers—though there were few—had marched solemnly beside the casket as it was carried to the burial grounds, their reversed weapons gleaming even in the weak sunlight. Despite their acceptance of the events that had occurred, the honor that everyone had bestowed on their dead father had been enough to make them break down during the morning. Peter and Edmund had received so many remarks: "_My goodness, you two resemble him so much… such sturdy young men… you'll grow up to be just like him…_" and eventually the two had crumbled, biting their lips in front of their relatives but crying openly on their sisters' shoulders once the siblings had been left alone. Susan and Lucy, having had their own comments to deal with ("_Such beauties, aren't they…? Poor dears… who will walk them down the aisle when their time comes…?_"), found that their own cheeks were wet with tears once their brothers had submitted to their grief.

Out of the church and away from their weeping relations, however, they had realized that they found no reason to cry. Instead they had filled their time by remembering their father through means of telling stories, reliving memories, sharing laughter. It wasn't exactly the preferred behavior the rest of their relatives would have obviously preferred—but it made them feel better.

"You know," Lucy said presently as they walked slowly down the hill again, toward their father's grave, "This hillside has a Narnian look to it, don't you think? Even if it's cloudy and dull right now I think Dad would have liked it here."

"I'm sure he was here before," Peter said softly. "I'm sure he would like it."

"The trees are even dancing," Lucy said with delight, pointing to the trees that swayed from the breeze. Edmund chuckled quietly in amusement, and Susan took her sister's hand, a grin stretching across her face. "_Within the contents of your soul…_"

"_There lies a secret song_," Lucy joined in cheerily and they sung their way down to their father's gravesite, Peter and Edmund close behind them. They wove their way through the various graves before they reached the one they had stood around previously, the one that still had fresh dirt scattered around it and fresh flowers waving around in the wind.

They stopped in a half-circle around the tombstone. Even though they already knew it by heart they read it again, savoring the line that read, "_Beloved father of four_." The four siblings stood gazing at the tombstone as though they hadn't seen it an hour before, until Peter broke the silence again.

"Well, let's see what this is, then." He was looking at the parcel in his hands.

"Yeah," Edmund said. "Open up."

Peter slowly unwrapped the package as Susan, Lucy, and Edmund crowded close to him so they could see. They all reached out to touch the parcel with one or two fingers as Peter held it, removing the worn cloth together. What was wrapped among the fabric stunned them.

Even though the frame was slightly burnt around the edges, even though the glass was broken in one or two places, the picture that they now gazed at silently was not harmed. The four could make out their own faces gazing back at them, their faces as they were when they had been one, three, five, and six years old.

"It's our picture," Lucy said with wonder. "How…?"

Her voice trailed off and they stared at the photograph, taking in their intertwined hands and looking at how they all leaned toward each other even when they were so young, from Edmund reaching for baby Lucy to Susan resting her chin on Peter's shoulder. Seeing the photograph that had hung on one of their dirty walls in the shack they had lived in, and previously above their fireplace in the home they had lived in before the war, flooded their minds with memories. Good times, bad times, despite what impossibilities came into their lives… the world still shrunk down to the four of them—and their picture summed that up in a way no words could describe.

Lucy put her fingers to her lips and kissed them, then reached back toward the picture and placed them on the frame momentarily. Susan, then Peter, then Edmund, followed suit. Then Peter stepped forward and gently placed the picture into the soil, propping it against the side of the tombstone and setting the frame into the ground so that it wouldn't blow away. Susan handed him the cloth and he wrapped it tightly over the picture.

Again they stood and gazed at the grave, but only for a moment. Lucy unexpectedly walked forward as Peter had, but instead of bending down to adjust the picture she kissed her fingers again and laid them tenderly on the stone. She whispered to the tombstone, eyes closed and lips moving soundlessly, for a minute or two before stepping back to rejoin her siblings; then, as silently as they came, they turned around and began to walk back toward the top of the hill.

"What'd you say, Lu?" asked Edmund when their father's grave was some distance behind them. But the girl simply gave him a smile, eyes dancing, and after a moment she began to sing again.

"_Within the contents of your soul there lies a secret song_, a_ song that falls and grows at times as your life lives on_…."

Edmund joined in their Narnian song, singing off-key, and Peter looked back to Susan, waiting until she caught up with him. "You all right?" he asked as they followed Edmund and Lucy. "You haven't spoken much today."

Susan nodded. "I haven't had to," she said softly and Peter put his arm around her. They—at the same time, as though they had planned to together—began to sing quietly with their younger siblings as they started climbing the hillside that would lead them out of the graveyard, Susan laying her head on Peter's shoulder gratefully as they walked.

"…_Whether it is high or low, loud or soft or sweet, the accuracy of your sweet melody means the most to me…. Sing to all with honesty, sing for those who don't know truth, sing with faith and don't lose heart; sing the song that lives in you._"

When they approached the top of the hill something in the air changed swiftly; it was not much of a physical change… it was more of a different sense that came to them and made them stop suddenly. In that instant their cold skin tingled with sudden warmth; the gray, cloudy sky suddenly swished faster and made way for a light that shone through to the ground onto them like a golden mist. The hillside sprang to life; the grass shone and the trees brightened and swayed as though they really were dancing. The gray sky began to fade, making way for a deep, rich blue that the beautiful bright sun pierced through.

The siblings stood, soaking in the unexpected warmth with utter happiness; then suddenly Lucy gasped. If her face had not held shock at the sun's reappearance, blissful astonishment rested in her features now. Her gaze was on the trees in the distance.

Silently Edmund and Susan and Peter turned around and looked to where Lucy's wide eyes were fixed. And what they saw for a brief, wonderful moment—gazing back at them through overwhelming eyes, wisps of golden light blowing from his mane—made their hearts soar higher than they would have dared to let them fly.

Aslan.

The Lion gazed at them for an amount of time that in no way could have been recorded. Then in a single, flawless movement he was close to them and the four were on their knees, and the air was sweet with his breath as each Pevensie felt the warmth of a Lion's kiss on their foreheads. Each of them heard the words they had been aching to hear—though they did not know it until then—rumble from his great mouth.

_My kings_. _My queens_.

Then he was gone, vanishing in the brightness that shone from his presence. And the siblings rose to their feet with their hands intertwined, standing together in the golden sunlight that remained.

OOO

_Within the regions of your heart an answer surely lies _

_Its vastness and its majesty will lift you to the skies _

_Your questions live for reasons – they make your wisdom last _

_Never doubt that you will never learn from what has past_

_Sing to all with what you've seen, sing and let your voice ring true_

_Sing with faith and don't lose heart… sing the song that lives in you_

OOO

_The End_

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**Well, there it is!**

**I wrote the final lyrics to the song Susan and Lucy sing throughout the entire story and was going to weave it into this chapter somehow, but for some reason they seemed to fit better as an after-piece.  
**

**I guess all that remains for me to do is respond to your reviews for this last chapter (hint, hint :D) and to thank you guys again for your support and encouragement. I honestly would have never finished this story if it wasn't for your reviews; in writing **_**So Changed**_** I feel that my writing has improved greatly, and that would not have been possible if I had not received advice from my readers.**

**I'm currently working on a couple of Narnia one-shots as well as my other multi-chapter fic, so don't think this is the last you'll hear from me! :D**

**Thank you all again!**


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